


Love Always, The Doctor

by chiaroscuroverse, fleurdeneuf



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Baker Rose, Epistolary, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hallmark Movie AU, Past Character Death, Single Parents, Writer Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13280979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscuroverse/pseuds/chiaroscuroverse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeneuf/pseuds/fleurdeneuf
Summary: Rose Tyler-Foreman has been running her cafe and taking care of her daughter, Susan, on her own since the death of her husband, and never thought she’d be in love again. But when Susan writes a letter to Father Christmas, that just might change everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SelenaTerna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaTerna/gifts).



> This story is an AU of the Hallmark Channel Christmas movie Love Always, Santa.

  


* * *

_~December 1st~_

Rose hated December. 

_That’s not fair_ , she immediately corrected herself. _Just...it hurts_. 

She tuned in to her daughter’s voice to realize that she’d missed the turn from talk about her upcoming birthday plans to something about the letter she was writing to Father Christmas. 

“—and everyone gets a reply! You might be the one to get picked for Father Christmas to answer. Macie got a letter actually from _him_ but they say he’s very busy, so you probably just get your own elf. Mummy?”

“Yes, darling, that sounds lovely!” She smiled at Susan’s expectant face and made a mental note to search this place and make sure there were no hidden charges. “What’s it called? Where you send the letter?” 

“Christmas Ink. Ink like a pen, get it? I’ve got to finish mine so it can go in today’s post. I took a stamp out of your purse.”

“Yes, I get it. And that’s fine.” Rose leaned into Susan’s dark curls to give her a kiss. “Now you remember that Santa Claus knows best what presents to give you, no matter what you ask for.”

“I know just what to ask for,” Susan replied, her face suddenly serious as she bent her head to write, in a way that hit Rose with a clench of the heart as being so like her father. How many times had he leaned over this very table in the back of their cafe, with a furrowed brow, scribbling into his notebook.

_She’d closed up 20 minutes ago, and stood sipping on a drink by the table, feet aching and a little annoyed that he wasn’t ready yet. But there was still something mesmerizing about the movement of his hand across the page and the way he worried his lip._

_She leaned over the table. “Oi, Professor. You at a stopping point yet? Look, it’s snowing, and we should probably get home.”_

_He looked up with those blue eyes alight as a smile broke over his face. “Snow? In time for Christmas!” He jumped up and grabbed her hand. “Come on, Rose Tyler, I want to kiss snowflakes off your eyelashes.”_

And he did. She closed her eyes and smiled. He’d kissed a lot more than her lashes. 

It hadn’t snowed in December since that night, and before the next Christmas he was gone. Rose blinked away tears and returned to straightening chairs.

“Ready!” Susan called out, and jumped up from the cafe table to run through the jingling door, calling out, “Mr. Mott!” to the postman about to climb into his Royal Mail truck.

Rose smiled and shook off her melancholy thoughts. Susan deserved a happy birthday and a happy Christmas. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Uncle John!” A chorus of voices greeted John Smith as he stepped into his best friend’s home. In spite of his current day job, he hadn’t felt anything like Christmas spirit until this moment, smelling pine and spices and home cooking, and hearing the general din of a busy family home. Two four-year-olds attached themselves to his legs and he shook them off with mock fear. 

Jack Harkness grinned as he stepped over his sons to hug John. “Doctor.” 

“Captain.” 

“I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t see you at all--if you were set on staying holed up in your cave all winter.” Jack gave him an extra squeeze and a couple pats for good measure. 

“Eh, you know I hate December.” John said, casually, but avoided Jack’s eyes as he handed over his leather coat.

Jack hesitated just long enough that John knew he’d stifled a comment, but he just said, “Ianto’s in the kitchen. I’ll take your bags up. Boys? Living room!” 

John headed in to say hello to Jack’s husband, and found their eldest acting as chef’s assistant. “Ben! Looks like you’ve grown a foot since I saw you last.” 

Ben flashed a smile remarkably like Jack’s. “Hi, Uncle John! I just finished reading your book. I had to make a deal with Polly for one week with it.” 

“Your cheap dad didn’t get you your own? I’ll send you one myself! Well, if you liked it well enough.” 

“Yeah, ‘course I did! No one could love it more than Polly, though. Dad said you’re writing the sequel?”

“Well--”

“Now, Ben, you can’t rush writers. Hello, John!” Ianto came from the pantry, holding a spoon in the air, and hugged him with one arm. “We’re really so pleased you decided to stay with us.” 

“I’m pleased you’ll have me! The house looks beautiful.” And it really did. The Christmas tree was perfect. Every light was on, plus the strings of fairy lights wrapped around garland throughout the house, and it was the most welcoming place he’d been in for a long time. A tightness in his shoulders eased and he took a deep breath. 

“We’ll be ready to eat in about twenty minutes. Go, relax and catch up with Jack. Help him corral Danny and David, if you would.”

“My pleasure!” He returned to the sitting room, scooping up a giggling child along the way. Footsteps thudded down the stairs as he came around to the front of them, and ten-year-old Polly almost crashed into him and turned it into a hug.

“You’re here! We need to talk.” She had his book tucked under her arm. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Rose closed the  _Journal of Impossible Things_ and squeezed Susan tighter. “Next chapter is called The Sensorites.” 

“One more?” 

“Nope nope nope, you’ve got to get to sleep.”

“Mummy, do you think I’m like Ace or like Zoe?” 

Rose kissed her head and chuckled. “Depends on the day. What do you think?”

“Zoe sometimes knows better than the Grandfather!”

“Mm-hmm. You’re a smart cookie too. And you’re brave, like Ace.” 

Susan was quiet for a moment, and looked off toward the window. “What would Daddy say?” 

“I think...he would say that you’re Susan, and there’s never been another you in the whole world and never will be. And you can be anything you want to be.”

“Would he read to me?”

“Of course he would; he did all the time. You remember, right?” 

“I dunno, sometimes. I remember he used to tell me about when I was born.” 

Rose smiled into her hair. “That was your favorite. He loved to really play it up, though, and get you to say certain words when he got to them. ‘Oh, look it’s Susan!’”

“She’s finally here!” Susan piped up, imitating her younger voice.

“Haha, that’s right. You remember!” 

“Um. Does it make you too sad to talk about? Is that why you don’t tell me the story?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I dunno, you’re--you’re getting older and I thought maybe I couldn’t replace those things for you. But of course I’ll tell you anything you want to know. It’ll be your birthday, maybe time to try out some old traditions, hmm? See what we might wanna keep?”

Susan rubbed her face into Rose’s shoulder. “Okay.” She sounded much younger than almost nine, for a moment.

“You know how much I love you, right? And how much your Daddy loved you?” 

Susan nodded. “All the way to the moon and back.” 

Rose heard the echo of James’s voice and blinked away tears. “Oh, my darling…we’re gonna be ok, you and me.” She shifted to climb out of Susan’s bed and smooched her face until she giggled. “You excited about your party?”

“Yes, but I think Gran is more excited than me.”

“Probably!” Rose laughed. 

“Is Uncle Mickey coming?” 

“Yes, he’ll be there. Now, you get some sleep!” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack slouched back into one corner of his overstuffed couch, sighing contentedly at the now-quiet house. “I’ve heard some news about Romana.”

John set his glass down, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes to rest back on the chair opposite him. “Do I need to know?” Throughout dinner he’d grown more warm and relaxed, full of pasta and homemade sauce, and sunk into the rhythms of the family chatter. He wasn’t particularly ready for a mood change.

“Well, yeah, I know it’s not your favorite subject, but you might have to deal with it. She’s filed to run for parliament.”

“Good for her.” 

“She stands a good chance, though it could get contentious, which is why you need to be prepared. The tabs…” Jack swirled the wine in his glass. 

John sighed heavily and kept his eyes closed. “They’ll get nothing from me. And what do I care what nonsense they spin up. She didn’t want to be married to me, and she left me and found someone more to her liking. End of story.”

“Well, what should be end of story and what _is_ aren’t always the same. She might be asked about your relationship. I hope she won’t say anything, but if she does… There’s the next book tour to think about.”

“Book tour! You have a lot of faith in me. Anway, she’s got more to lose than I do, so I doubt she’ll say anything newsworthy. Her timing is impeccable as always.”

Jack sighed. “Yeah, well, I’d have rather waited to tell you, but here we are. And I do, actually, have a lot of faith in you. You have the next story and it’s good. And now it’s time for me to kick your arse to get it done.”

John picked up his glass for a long swallow. “Polly gave me a lot of notes. Might have to make some revisions.”

Jack smiled. “I’ll send _her_ to kick your arse. I’m gonna ask--what have you gotten accomplished since we saw you this summer, hmm?” 

“Needed to get the roof done and remake my desk area.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Firewood stacked.”

“I won’t say anything for the rest of this year, got it? That’s a whole month. But come January, it’ll be time to get on deadline. It’s been over a year and a half since you wrote anything.” 

“Not true. I write.”

“Telling people they’re wrong on the internet doesn’t count.”

“I definitely do not waste time telling stupid apes they’re wrong on the internet!”

Jack laughed wholeheartedly, and got up to empty the wine into their glasses. 

“I’ve been doing some work for Christmas Ink.”

“Christmas Ink? Oh, writing letters from Santa Claus? That’s--cute, actually. I should see if my kids have sent anything in.”

“We write as ourselves. Well, ourselves if we were elves.”

Jack cracked up. “Please tell me there’s a photoshoot!”

“It’s not like that. It’s...nice.” 

“I bet you write great Santa letters, actually. You talk to the kids like their interests are important, take them seriously. It’s a good quality.” 

“They’re great people, your kids. Dunno how you managed it.” He grinned, but stopped at the look on Jack’s face. “Now, don’t get soppy on me--I’ll have to open another bottle!” 

Jack blinked his reddened eyes. “It’s all Yan, you know? This house, the way he makes me believe we always have more room, physically and otherwise. This family wouldn’t be--who would _I_ be if it weren’t for him? A workaholic, noncustodial father who barely knew his son?” 

“I know.” He took a drink. “How’s Lucia?” 

“Good. Still with the NGO in India. We’ll see her in January. Ben can’t wait.” 

“I’m glad for him.” 

“Speaking of having more room in the house--that reminds me, I have to tell you that your room might be taken up very soon!”

John looked at him questioningly. 

“Expanding again! Probably. We’re going to start fostering, after the new year.”

“Jack, that’s amazin’, really, I’m so happy for all of you.” 

Jack leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, looked him straight in the eyes. “And _that_...is why you need to get this book done. I’m about to have seven or ten kids and I need to get paid!” He winked. 

John laughed hard and slapped Jack’s knee, a little too hard. “All right, point taken. It’s the least I can do after how hard you sold the first one. See, now _I_ wouldn’t be John Smith, _author_ , if it weren’t for _you_.”

“Too right you wouldn’t!”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_~December 4th~_

Jackie Tyler’s new home shone bright and fully decked out for Christmas. Rose had to admit, her mother seemed truly happy with Howard the greengrocer. They’d moved out of the council estate to a slightly bigger townhome in the almost-suburbs and Jackie was in her glory.

The party was winding down. Susan’s two best friends from school had already been picked up, though a few younger cousins were still running around, and Rose turned up the stereo. 

_I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need..._

Susan squealed, ran into the living room, and grabbed Rose’s hand to start twirling. “My favorite song!”

Rose swung her back and forth and laughed. _Reclaim our memories, that’s the goal this year._ And it was working. She gazed at Susan’s pink cheeks and the wispy curls that refused to stay tucked into the sock bun no matter how much Rose worked on her technique. 

Susan had been delighted by everything today--proud and excited to the point of tears when Rose revealed her birthday cake, a fondant-covered tall blue box, like the one her favorite characters traveled the universe in, with layers of chocolate and vanilla cake inside. Jackie had made cutouts of various aliens for decorations, and Susan’s most prized gift, an unofficial guide to the characters, came from Mickey Smith. 

Mickey...Rose’s oldest friend, who now stood at the wall watching the dancing with a small smile. “Come on over here, you,” Rose called to him, and released Susan so she could go drag her little cousin into the dance. 

Mickey took her hand and gave her a spin, and when she laughed, surprised, said, “Didn’t know I learnt some moves, eh?” 

“Yeah, you have!” Rose laughed.

“Maybe you want to come out with me sometime and try them out?”

“Out dancing? Like, to a club?” She and Mickey hung out pretty regularly, but there was never anything date-like about it, and now she wondered at something in his face. 

“I mean, if you want to, might be fun,” he said, shrugging. 

“Yeah, let me think about it.” 

The song ended and she gave him a quick hug before Susan crashed into her and clung. They flopped breathlessly onto the couch. Rose tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Have you been having a good birthday, darling?” 

Susan’s grin was as wide as she’d seen it in a while. “Yes! Can we stay here tonight, I don’t want to go home yet.” 

“We can ask Gran. I bet she’ll want us to. And we can make a big breakfast and it’ll be brilliant.” She smoothed her hand down Susan’s face and drank in every detail. 

“Mummy, you’re looking at me all silly.”

“That’s because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I’m just happy.”

Susan giggled and burrowed further into her side and Rose had to lean down to hear her. “Are you really?” She didn’t look up. 

“This is the day my baby was born. And all these people I love are here. And _you_ are happy. So yeah, I am. One day at a time right, right?”

“Right.”

Regret welled up in her gut for how Susan’s last two birthdays must have felt, but Jackie interrupted from the kitchen. “Oi, Rose! Come in here and clean up with me.” 

Along the way, she saw her assistant, Clara, putting on her coat. Rose hugged her. “Thank you so much for coming! And the cake--I couldn’t have done it without you!” 

“Oh, please, you were on top of it.”

“No, really, you’re magic with the structure; mine would have fallen down before the party started.” Rose slung an arm around her as she moved toward the door. “Why do you think I stick to cupcakes?”

Clara had a twinkle in her eye. “Then are we ready to revisit my wedding cakes plan?” 

“You got it! We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

She rejoined Jackie, who stood at the sink washing serving dishes, and grabbed a towel to dry. “Hello, hostess! Everything was beautiful, Mum, thank you.” 

Jackie smiled proudly, “Well, all for my granddaughter.” 

“Look at her face--she’s had such a perfect day. I couldn’t--” her voice broke. “I’m afraid I couldn’t have done it myself. I don’t even want to think about her last two--”

“Rose, love, you stop that right now! You did the best you could, same as I did.” 

“I know, I just--” Rose dabbed her eyes with the tea towel, then resumed drying. “Does Howard always leave you to do all the washing up?” Her stepfather remained a bit mysterious to her, and she was not quite past looking for red flags, in spite of the recent marriage. 

“He knows to stay out. I like to have peace and do things my way in here.” She gave a sly look and Rose laughed. “You think I’m old-fashioned, but it’s my territory.” 

“Hey, your marriage is your business!” 

“Quite right. Anyway, I’ve been wonderin’...Have you had your eyes open lately?” She nodded toward the living room, where Mickey was sat with Susan, listening as she chatted animatedly, probably about one of her many stories she’d created for her favorite characters. 

“What?”

“Sounded to me like he was asking you on a proper date.” 

“Mum! I mean, ok, maybe? But, we tried that, ages ago. I care about him, I do, but it’s not like. Like a--”

“A spark?” she huffed. “Let me tell you something, sometimes in life we have to make our own sparks.”

“I dunno.” 

“Well, take a look at that couch and tell me it doesn’t melt your heart.”

Whatever Mickey said was making Susan laugh. Her mum had a point.

“He’s been promoted, you know. Chief software engineer. He’s movin’ up. And don’t tell me you don’t think he’s fit enough!” Jackie continued. “Could do a lot worse!” 

Rose burst into giggles, then lowered her voice. “Mum! He’ll hear you.” And she took a good, long look at Mickey. He’d really grown into himself well. She thought of their fumbling but sweet teenage makeouts that she’d always remembered with fondness. It would be different, but maybe it was worth considering. They could spend some time together and see if the fire rekindled. 

Nothing would ever be the same. And she should stop expecting it to.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John turned the key to his P.O. box at the Gallifrey post office and opened his canvas bag. ‘ _Tis the season_ , he thought, pulling out handful after handful of of letters and dropping them into the bag. An official card was stuck to the top of the pile--a package for him. He’d have to come back during business hours. 

Back at home, he poured a glass of wine and set to work opening letters and scripting answers to them. He was pleased with his pace. “There’s me, granting wishes all over the kingdom!” he said to his completed stack, and leaned back in his oversized office chair, looking out the picture window over his desk into the countryside nighttime. They said snow was expected this year, but it hadn’t happened yet. There was enough moonlight that he could see all across his property. The glass showed only dim reflections from his green desk lamp and fireplace, and he watched the dancing flames.

  
He startled awake some hours later, breathing hard and shaking off confused remnants of a firefight, and a patient he laid his body across as a shield.  


_No,_ he told himself,  _not here. Not here._

This cottage was the sanctuary he’d built for himself, and he refused to let the monsters in. His hands had transformed the rough shack into a warm and beautiful home, and with every piece of wood nailed and every coat of paint, he pictured a stronger barrier around his memories. 

December was his least favorite month, since the December he was 19 and lost his parents, and with them his connection to any extended family. It was the month of his worst war experience, and it was a year after that when Romana decided she couldn’t live with him anymore. His dreams still worsened on schedule every year, as if stirred up from the depths by the holiday music he always played defiantly, because he refused to let any of it take Christmas away from him. He scrubbed his face. The firewood had burned down to a red glow of coal and the room was chillier. 

Maybe he should have taken Jack and Ianto’s offer to stay in the city with them until Christmas. New Year’s Day would make it all easier. 

A letter in a red envelope had fallen into his lap. He opened it. 

> Dear Father Christmas:
> 
> This will be the third Christmas since my daddy died, and my mum is still so lonely without him and so am I. She isn’t the same mum as I remember before. They were going to travel the world together, but they had me instead. My daddy loved to make plans for all the places he was going to take us. And she was always so happy and excited. And now that he’s gone, I think my mum is afraid she’ll never have any adventures. And that she’ll never be in love again. 
> 
> My favorite book is Journal of Impossible Things, and it makes me wish that Jamie and Zoe and Ace could come and find us and take us to Grandfather’s spaceship and let her see so many amazing things out in the universe. I don’t want anything else for Christmas. I just want Mummy to smile all the way up to her eyes again. Can you bring back her smile? 
> 
> Thank you, Father Christmas. 
> 
> Love, Susan Foreman, age (almost) 9 

He smiled, amused, for a moment, then set the letter down. This kid wrote to the right elf, and she didn’t even know it. 

_Bed now--answer in the morning_ , he told himself. But he sat down again, looked at the letter, and pulled out a fresh piece of stationery.

> Dear Susan, 
> 
> My name is the Doctor. Father Christmas is hard at work getting ready for Christmas, so I’m writing you back for him. 
> 
> Whenever I feel lonely up here in Lapland, and like everyone in the world is far away, I just look up at the stars. They're the same stars that everyone else in the world sees every night, and the same stars that I used to watch with the loved ones I've lost. When I look up at the sky, the people I love are never far from me. 
> 
> No one can ever replace your dad. But I know for sure that he wanted you and your mum to have a fantastic life. In every life there is a pile of good things and bad things; the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but then the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things or make them unimportant. You have each other, and you have time, and new adventures can be right around the corner. 
> 
> There’s a quote from one of my favorite books, by Charles Dickens, and I think you’re old enough to understand. “Memory, however sad, is the best and purest link between this world and a better.” Your loss is irreplaceable, but your memories of your dad are where your love for him lives and will never leave you. The same is true for your mum…  
> 

Without further reflection, he kept writing, adding new pages, words flowing from his pen in a way they hadn’t in years. He was surprised to find himself at a finishing point and signing “Love Always, The Doctor.” He looked back over the letter, considering, but felt satisfied, and added his Christmas Ink elf code. He placed a first class Royal Mail stamp on the envelope and added it to the stack of completed letters, which he put in the bag by the door. First thing tomorrow: post box. 

For now: a peaceful, dreamless sleep. 

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

_~December 5~_

The door chimed at the Bad Wolf Cafe as Rose handed over coffee and cupcakes to a few afternoon customers. Wilfred Mott came in with his red mailbag and a matching knit cap. The cold had set in over the last two days. 

“Keeping warm enough, Wilf?” Rose called out. “How about a cuppa?” 

“Oh, you’re a dear to be worried about me. I’m an old hand at cold weather. But, if you can spare a cuppa to go?” He winked. “And I have a letter for you, young lady!” 

Susan jumped from the corner table covered with school books and took the envelope from Wilf. “It’s from Christmas Ink! Already!” She tore it open as she ran to the back of the shop. 

Rose handed Wilf a tea, and he set off with a salute. 

Bill, another of Rose’s employees, came out and gathered her things at the coat tree. “That’s me done. Off to class!” 

“Thank you so much for coming in on short notice!” Rose said

“No, really, just text me and I will if I can! Especially evenings.” Bill pulled on a hat and gloves. 

“I’m working on the evening business, but please tell me you can keep up with classes while you work.” 

“Not much of a partier, me. I’d rather make some money when I can.”

“I totally understand. So, I’ve been advertising the Christmas open mic night. You want to work that, it’s yours...”

Bill looked hopeful. “So, if I’m workin’, can still I sing?” 

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you sing! Yes, of course! We’ll make a whole thing of it! Ah, this is great, everything’s coming together.”

“I’ll start practicing! See you tomorrow!” Bill winked on her way out the door.

  


Rose stayed busy with customers for a while, but when Susan didn’t come back, she went looking. 

Susan sat in front of what James had called the Wishing Wall, a collage of photos: some Rose had taken, some from places they hadn’t been yet, and some were galaxies through the eyes of a telescope. She held what looked like a multiple page letter and her eyes were red. 

Rose frowned. “What is it? Was it something in the letter? Can I see?” 

Susan pushed it across the table, but kept her eyes on the wall. “Why don’t we go stargazing anymore?” 

A shard of ice cut through Rose’s heart. 

“I didn’t--” she took a deep breath and sat at the table. “It wasn’t on purpose. I don’t know...” She trailed off and stared at a picture of an ocean-going sailboat, before turning to meet Susan’s eyes, darker than amber here away from the sunlight. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know enough. Without Daddy--he knew all the names and had so many stories.”

“I know, but I still wanna go back. Maybe I can learn all the names?” 

“Sweetheart.” She held out her arms and Susan came to her. “If you want to, that would be lovely. What brought this on?”

“My letter is from Father Christmas’ elf. He likes to look at stars too. And I started thinking about stars and it made me remember being on Daddy’s shoulders and he spun me around. And that made me remember when we laid on the grass and he told me about Pegasus and that’s why I got my Pegasus pillow.” 

“That’s how it happens. The more you think about your memories, the more you can remember and they will stay with you.” She hugged Susan, and when the door chimes jingled, patted her back. “Up, up. Go finish your homework.” She tucked the letter into her apron. 

  


Later in the quiet of her post-bedtime flat, Rose put an extra pillow under her feet and relaxed with a glass of wine and the letter from Christmas Ink. She read it twice, wiped away tears, and then went to scrounge through her desk for stationery and the smoothest pen she could find. 

> Dear Doctor,
> 
> I can’t thank you enough for the time and thought it must have taken for you to write as much as you did back to my daughter, Susan. It moved us both to tears. I don’t know how it is you could understand so well. Well, I fear you have had some loss in your life too, in which case I’m so so sorry. Understanding, though, coming from such an unexpected place, was so special to us. I cannot express how much! 
> 
> The last few years seem like the most defining of my life--suddenly I had to keep living and do this on my own. And yet, they’ve been filled with moments of grace, all connected with my little angel. (Well, usually she’s an angel, if you know kids :) ) I have felt lost sometimes just keeping my head above water, and not noticed them as they were happening--she is growing and changing before my eyes. Something about your letter made me stop and think back over it all, and see just how many of those special moments we’ve had in spite of our loss. I cannot thank you enough. 
> 
> I have to say, it feels sort of mad writing this letter. It’s been years, maybe since my wedding, since I even looked at this good paper or picked up a pen to do anything other than jot quick notes. I always say I love my phone, and I do, but this, well, it’s so...classic. Like writing to the pen pal I never had as a child. My hands are trembling (sorry about the penmanship). Maybe it’s the wine! 

She added a quick smiley by the comment about the wine--hopefully he would know she was joking and not soused--and considered whether her handwriting was passable. _Way out of practice there._ She used to be such a fast writer, and took copious notes in class, while sneaking glances at the curly-headed grad student with the dazzling smile. Her eyes closed as she sipped at her glass. So many times in the last few years, she’d put her memories of James in a box, only to be taken out and savored when she was ready to risk falling apart, which meant it didn’t happen too often. 

She didn’t fall apart. After a few lost minutes of savoring, she opened her eyes and looked at the letter, contemplating how to end it. She wrote a few more lines, and then tapped her lips with the pen. _Signature? Hmm._ Surely he would remember Susan’s name, and that’s really all that needed to be said. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John emptied his mailbox, the parcel he’d claimed tucked under his arm. One in fancy stationery with grown-up handwriting caught his eye and he dropped the rest of his mail to open it. 

He couldn’t help but grin. 

  


> Dear Susan’s Mum, 
> 
> Nice to meet you, Susan’s Mum! It’s me who should be thanking you--and Susan. Your letters sparked something in me. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to write so extensively. If I’ve inspired you to pick up a pen, I’ll consider that a victory. My phone is a necessary evil, but I’ll always love paper more than anything else. Might make me a Luddite, but I’ll never quite get over it. Letters on paper, news on paper, and especially books on paper. There’s nothing in the world like the touch of book pages on your fingers. Maybe they’ll get me to read an ebook in the end, but it hasn’t happened yet! 
> 
> I am so pleased if my words helped you in some way to feel understood in your loss. You guessed the truth, I have experienced it too, though quite not in the same way as you. My parents passed away when I was young. I did lose a wife, but not to death. And I’d best leave it there. I have had other losses that aren’t so easily summed up. Loss is universal in a sense and yet terribly specific. 

John sat back in his desk, a bit startled by the sudden temptation to pour his heart out. He’d come straight to the desk and started writing a reply as soon as he’d walked in the door, even dropped his parcel unopened on the couch. 

He retrieved it now, tearing open the soft pack that had a return address of the Christmas Ink office, and pulled out a knit jumper in a soft grayish-blue. A handwritten card fell out. “We wanted you to have something to match your eyes. Happy Christmas! Minnie and Jeanie” His heart warmed at the kindness. The two elderly founders kept the office humming and the mail coordinated to all the “elves” around the country, and had somehow found time to do this for him in their busiest time of year. 

Minnie always knit in her free time, and was a terrible flirt. He’d enjoyed bantering with her on the days he used to stop into the office before he got his own P.O. Box to expedite his services. (He made a mental note to write a thank-you and take them out to lunch the next time he went by the office.) The yarn was soft, more so than the wool he tended to buy, so he whipped off his current jumper and pulled Minnie’s over his head. It fit like a dream--he shouldn’t be surprised with all her years of practice, but she’d sized him up well. 

He kept it on and returned to the letter. “Susan’s mum…” he murmured out loud. He decided to turn to happier topics and leave it open-ended for her to choose whether to write to him again. He looked at her letter again--the way she wrote the word “classic”--and traced the swirling lines with his eyes before writing:

> I am not a father myself, although I am lucky enough to have some great kids in my life. So I know what you mean about sometimes-angels! Such interesting people, aren’t they? I love when I have a chance to see the world through their eyes. 
> 
> Thank you so much for what you’ve told me. These Christmas letters are always fun to do, but you’ve brought even more meaning to it.
> 
> Love always, 
> 
> The Doctor

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> Dear Doctor, 
> 
> I used to love to write, and to read. Between work and Susan, it’s been so long since I’ve read anything longer than an article in one sitting. Like I’m always “measuring out my life in coffee spoons.” Although, funny, I just realized I didn’t count the reading I do with Susan. In the last year or so we’ve switched from her old favorite bedtime stories to reading chapter novels together. Real paper books, I’ll have you know! (True, I do love the convenience of reading on my phone sometimes…) She likes me to read aloud to her at bedtime, even though she could do it on her own by now. And she still wants me to read it even when she’s taken the book and finished it herself! Which is what’s happened with the current one.
> 
> Sometimes, I confess, I’m so tired and want nothing more than to be done for the day! Retreat to my own room and my own TV. But reading together…I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 
> 
> I don’t know if this is “healing,” but I’ve been able to spend more time lately remembering my husband, and those moments of grace we had together, without the grief making it like I can’t breathe. For a long time, it seemed impossible…

She’d written him back. He couldn’t stop grinning. He read the rest of her letter while walking out of the post office, and nearly tripped when the kerb surprised him. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> Coffee spoons? Are you a T.S. Eliot fan then? Or a poetry fan? Tell me about something you like, Susan’s Mum. I’ll go first. My very favorite: Charles Dickens. You know the game where you say who you’d invite to dinner - he’d probably be my top choice. I’d love to talk to him. I think ole Charlie Boy would agree with me about ebooks: “Electric communication will never be a substitute for the face of someone who with their soul encourages another person to be brave and true.” He was ahead of his time! 
> 
> Love always, 
> 
> The Doctor

“Ma’am?” 

Rose startled out of her reverie, repeating the last lines from the Doctor’s latest letter while she contemplated a certain plaque on her wall, laughing and imagining what she’d write back. 

“Sorry!” she said to the woman who’d somehow come through the chiming door and all the way to the counter without Rose realizing. “Don’t know where my head is today!” 

The woman gave her a knowing look. “Must be somewhere nice, the way you’re smiling at that wall!” 

“I s’pose you’re right!” she laughed. “What can I get you?” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> As for T.S. Eliot, all I know is a few famous lines. “This is the way the world ends.” My mum gave us a wall-hanging with the coffee spoons quote (and some coffee spoons, of course) on it. James (my husband--have I said his name yet?) was a literature professor. Well, about to be a professor anyway. I met him while he was a teaching assistant for my English Lit class, it was all terribly scandalous! :) I learned a lot being around him, but my own favorites are Harry Potter, naturally, and as luck would have it, also Charles Dickens. 
> 
> James loved to read Dickens stories aloud to me. (I guess we’ve always been a read-aloud family.) Because when I was younger I didn’t think I liked them, too sad and complicated, or so I thought. But he’d sort of act them out and do character voices, to entertain me, and I started to love it. That’s what he was like. Wanted it to come alive! You know?
> 
> It feels so nice to talk about him in a relaxed way. I hope it’s ok with you. 
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Susan’s Mum 
> 
> P.S. A Christmas Carol is my favorite 

Letters from Susan’s Mum came every day now, sometimes two at once. Writing back to her had quickly become the best part of his day, second only to the part where he read the letters. After his near-embarrassing-spill at the post office, though, he’d started saving both for the evenings. When he’d done enough work on home projects to satisfy, and had answered all the other Christmas Ink letters, he’d take hers from where he propped it up as motivation and press his fingers on the address she’d written while the letter opener sliced through the paper. He wanted to write to her with the fireplace going and a glass of red on his desk, and have her voice the last thing in his mind when he went to sleep. 

_Foolish man_ , he told himself. _You don’t know what her voice sounds like. You don’t even know her name_. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> You’ve now said his name, but you haven’t said yours! You don’t have to, of course… Of course it’s okay to talk about him. I’m honored. Sounds like he was a great teacher if he could make things come alive for you. It’s like how people think history is dry and boring, but not if you tell it like a story with characters. Here’s one I learned recently! The Aztecs used cocoa in marriage ceremonies. Associated it with wisdom (and virility, naturally). 
> 
> There’s some facts. But now what if it’s a story? A visitor arrives and meets an Aztec lady. She prepares a drink from cocoa beans, brings it to him and they drink together--will he find out they’re now married? History--not just dates and kings, it was always people living a life, doing their part. Not a single one of them wasn’t important in their own time. Well, don’t let me go on about that…
> 
> A Christmas Carol--there’s a fun one to speak: “squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!” My all-time favorite production of A Christmas Carol has to be the Muppets. I haven’t watched it yet this year. Maybe this weekend? “We’re Marley and Marley, avarice and greed!” There’s my deep, dark secret - I love the Muppets! One of my favorite things when I was a kid was Saturdays when The Muppet Show came on. When I was overseas, nothing felt like home more than getting a chance to see the Muppets. 
> 
> Love Always, 
> 
> The Doctor
> 
> P.S. Good ole JK. She really changed everything. 

Rose piped red and green frosting onto a batch of cupcakes. The letter rustled in her pocket. “ _There’s magic in the air, this evening, magic in the air_ \--” 

“What’s gotten into you lately?” Clara called, walking from the front of the store to the kitchen. “Never knew you to sing to the cupcakes before.” 

Rose’s face heated up. “‘M in a good mood.”

Clara raised her eyebrows. “Have you met someone?” 

“No! I mean, s’not like that.” She dropped the frosting bag and leaned on the counter. “Listen, I know how I can get around this time of year. But--I’ve been…better, lately. The day _of_ is gonna be hard, still. I dunno how to describe it.”

“Feeling like you’re ok to live your life, the way he’d have wanted you to?” Clara came around the table and gave her a quick hug. “This is a good thing!” 

“Yeah.” Rose smiled, hard, but a few tears filled the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, it’s good.” 

“And sing all you want! Susan said you had a pretty voice--I didn’t know whether to believe her.” She winked and whisked a tray out of the kitchen. “Hello, Susan!” Rose heard her call. “Why’s your mum smiling so much lately?”

“She’s pen pals with Santa’s elf.” 

“What?” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> Dear “Doctor,”
> 
> You’re one to talk about telling names! Hmm, which of us is going to break first? I might put Susan on the case, she’s quite a little investigator. It’s funny, something about not telling names makes it easier to skip preliminaries and really talk about subjects, like books and music (I got that Sam Cooke collection on iTunes and you’re so right! Knowing you, you probably have them all on vinyl.) 
> 
> Well, that is quite a story? Does it end there? Does he end up married or maybe as a sacrifice? =) 
> 
> So you spent time overseas? I’m a little jealous. Traveling was always my dream. We had so many plans, places we were going to go. Then, well, Susan was a surprise, and so we had to change course. Terrible timing for a baby, but we were just so happy. (Oh, so young!) We never stopped planning, though, while James was alive. All those dreams. I still have them. One day I’ll have the time and the means and Susan and I will go to Barcelona. For starters. Next stop, everywhere! I think that’s why she loves Journal of Impossible Things so much--she’s got wanderlust in her blood. She’d travel the stars if she could. 

Alone in her room, Rose unsealed the envelope of the first letter she’d written earlier that day and added the new one. Wilf definitely didn’t mind the wasted stamps, but she wouldn’t want her frugal mum to get wind of it. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John’s phone buzzed for the third time in a row and he grabbed it in irritation. Jack.

_did you look at the list?_

_bookstore readings_

_let’s do this!! pre-Christmas = $$ and buzz! Call me back!!!_

He’d been avoiding it, but Jack was right; he needed to get back out there, make sure people didn’t forget about him. He’d pulled out his notes and outline for his sequel two days earlier and had a prologue halfway drafted, along with several scenes where the gang drops in on the Aztecs. (He hadn’t told Jack yet--didn’t want to get him too excited.) If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to go into the city because he didn’t want to get that far from his mailbox. 

He turned back to the letter he’d been writing. _Overseas. Travel._ And decided to tell her.

> Dear Susan’s Mum, 
> 
> I spent quite a bit of time traveling, though not always for the good. I was a soldier, of sorts. Well, a medical officer. It was the usual mix of exciting and boring and terrifying and satisfying for a number of years. Things happened, very bad things, before I left, that may have changed me forever. Hard to say. My best friend says I’m still who I’ve always been, just a little worse for the wear. My therapist says “keep doing the work.” 
> 
> After I got home, I mostly stopped talking about it to other people. Started chasing new adventures. I hope it’s ok to talk about it with you, a little bit. This is a hard month for me, usually, because of things that have happened, but in the spirit of Christmas and ole Charlie Boy, I’m trying to: “Reflect upon your present blessings of which every man has many - not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.” 

Present blessings, like the letters he opened from her every day. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> Dear Doctor, 
> 
> Of course it’s ok to talk about! I so appreciate you felt like you could share it with me when it’s not something you talk about much. 
> 
> So, tough Decembers for both of us? It’s hard to be struggling when it seems like everyone is so cheery. I can say this, it’s the most cheerful December I’ve had in three years! I feel bad saying that because the 4th is Susan’s birthday, but James died before Christmas. Makes it all a big ball of hurt, usually. But it’s getting better. I’m smiling because that’s what Susan asked Father Christmas for, and you managed to do it. Thank you.

Rose leaned over the counter next to the register, writing as quickly as she could. 

> P.S. I’m still waiting to hear what you have to say about my music recs!! Fair’s fair! :) 

She stuffed and stamped the letter and ran to meet Wilf as he passed by and handed her her own stack. Just in time, as Jackie swooped in, pulling off her hat and coat and flopping into a table by the front window. 

“Want me to make the tea, love?” 

“Already got it!” Rose called and went to the counter to bring out the pot and two cups. 

When the tea was poured, Jackie sipped slowly and examined Rose over the top of her cup. 

Rose sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Out with it, I can tell you’ve got somethin’ to say.”

“Weren’t you making plans for a proper date with Mickey?”

“Yeah, sort of. Well, we both were busy the last couple weeks, but I think this week…” she trailed off. 

“I talk to my granddaughter, I know what you’ve been busy with.” She tapped pointedly on the stack of mail. 

Rose lifted her chin stubbornly. Conversations with her mother sometimes had the power to transport her back in time. “It’s a nice thing. You don’t need to worry about it.” 

“That’s just it, I do worry about _you_. I’m the one person who knows how hard you work and how much you sacrifice to keep everything going. And I know you can’t go on like this forever.”

“Mum--” Tears sprang to her eyes. 

“Hear me out, ok? You’re always gonna to do exactly what you want, I know that. And you can do it on your own, like I did. But having a partner--it’s a weight off. I didn’t even realize how much. You had something special with James, and now he’s gone. It’s--it’s _irreplaceable_.” Jackie stopped and looked out the window for a long moment. “But you can have love in your life again.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, give this a real chance. Mickey is a good man and he cares about you. Susan adores him. And he’s _here_. He always has been.” She tapped the mail again. “This is like...that gingerbread house in the case over there. It’s sweet and fun but you can’t live in it.” 

Rose’s heart twisted. “So, ‘settle’ is what you’re saying.” She wanted to scream.

“It’s not like that. It’s opening your heart. Seein’ if you can love again in a different way.” 

She studied her mother’s face. Rose was certain her mother had never loved anyone the way she’d loved Pete. But these days Jackie looked, well, _happy_. Maybe she was right. 

“Ok, mum, you win this one. I promise I will open my heart and see what happens.” The thought of letting go of the Doctor gave her a hollowness in her chest. But this wasn’t goodbye, necessarily; it was just…taking a moment. To be present here in her real life. She owed that much to her child.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_~December 19~_

> Dear Susan’s Mum, 
> 
> I’ve grown so accustomed to your stationery in my mailbox every day. Days without it is making me a bit worried. I hope I didn’t say the wrong thing. 

John threw down the pen. A second attempt at a letter and he wasn’t at all sure he could write anything now that didn’t sound pathetic or worse. She could have all kinds of reasons for not writing. Maybe she felt they’d reached a natural end. Or she had something new going on in her life. Someone. 

He crumpled the letter and threw it into the fireplace a bit more bitterly than he was willing to admit. _The urge to run_. He grabbed the printed list of bookstores. Time was short, but Jack’s social media skills were unparalleled. His eyes fell on a street name. He texted Jack. 

_Let’s do this_

_TBC_

_Bonus features - the sweater yarn is this color ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_~December 20~_

“Mummy! Look look!” Susan flew into the cafe waving a flyer. “They had this at the bookshop! Surprise appearance by John Smith! Tomorrow! He’s gonna read from the book!” 

“I know, sweetheart, I was about to tell you--it was on Facebook too.” Rose should have known Susan would see it the in the window when she got off the bus. She never missed a thing.

“I have to go!”

“Of course, you wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Will you go too?” 

“We’ll see. I’m already taking off a lot for things this week. It will mean a bigger lunch crowd.” She looked out the window, considering. “I’ll ask Gran to take you so we know you’re covered.”

“I could go by myself. It’s only down the block.” She shook off her backpack. 

Rose pursed her lips at Susan’s innocent expression. “That won’t be necessary, ta. And Gran will have money if you want to buy something.”

“I’m going to bring my own book and my notebook to show him. You think he’ll like it?”

“Yes, he’ll be very impressed.” 

“I’m gonna draw a new picture of Team Tardis!” Susan dropped the flyer and ran to her favorite table. 

Rose picked up the flyer and examined the photo. John Smith was a striking-looking man. This was a different one than the book cover, which was a typical author-pose: wingback chair, hand resting on his temple, middle-distance look. Here he gazed straight at the camera, with a closed-mouth smile that gave his eyes a bit of a twinkle. 

Well, maybe she could pop over, for a bit. If it was slow enough that Clara and Bill could cover for her. She tacked the flyer to the bulletin board by the door, next to the flyer for the school’s London Eye visit. It was going to be a crazy week. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_~December 21~_

“I can’t believe you met someone and haven’t told me.” Jack shifted Danny from one shoulder to the other so he could give John a look. Ianto and Polly walked ahead, holding David’s hands between them. Ben trailed them, headphones on, as the group walked the pavement of a quaint neighborhood toward the bookshop. 

“I _haven’t_ met her. I don’t know if we’d get on in real life. Don’t know anything about her, really.” 

“Inner thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams, taste in music and Christmas movies... And, somehow we’re here in her neighborhood.” 

“Maybe. _Maybe_ we’re in her neighborhood. I had to pick a location, so I did. And if it is indeed the general area she lives in, and her daughter sees the author of her favorite book is here and maybe wants to come and see--” He stopped. “Is this creepy?”

“Naw,” said Jack. “Not yet anyway. Unless you did something like show up at her address, in which case I’d have you removed myself. Don’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t! I made a point not to memorize the number.” John paused on the pavement and watched another family go through a door at the end of the block. 

“So say they’re here. How are you going to know?” 

“Well, a mother with a 9-year-old girl? She was still at university when she had her, so I can guess her age. And I know the girl’s name.”

“Ah, good point, you might be too old for her.”

“Funny, you,” John sniffed. “”M still in my prime.”

“‘Oh, yes, you are!”

Jack was having way too much fun with this, but he couldn’t help smiling anyway. Jack was always good for his self-confidence. “Anyway, ‘spose I was hoping I’d know her if I saw her. Which is stupid. And she stopped writing to me for a reason. This was all a stupid idea.” 

“This is good idea for your _career_ , remember? And more importantly, mine. Anyway, you said she ‘stopped’ writing two days before we booked this appearance? Which was two days ago? That’s hardly proof of anything except being busy.”

“Considerin’ she was sending letters at least once a day, sometimes more than once, it’s a change.” 

A red-jacketed postman with antlers on his head nodded as he passed. “Gentlemen.” 

“Now _he’s_ got the Christmas spirit!” said Jack, before turning back to John. “Why don’t you wait and see what happens today? Might be kismet.”

“The universe doesn’t usually treat me that kindly.” 

“Oh, doesn’t it, _bestselling author_?” 

“Fine.” John couldn’t resist a huff of laughter, but had to tease back. “Oh yeah, what is _your_ career again?” 

“Let me know when you find out!” Ianto called back. 

“Ah, so nice to know my loved ones really understand me!”

Polly piped up. “Dad’s job is making things happen.”

“That’s my girl!” Jack said proudly.

John looked with dismay at the approaching end of the block. “More people going in? And we’re more than thirty minutes early?” 

“I got the word to the fan groups and they did the rest. The people have been hungry! Oh, and The Guardian Books will be there, and if I’m very, very good, we’ll get a mention on Good Morning Britain.” 

“Yeah, you’re good.” Media appearances always made his shoulders tight. At least today he’d be talking mostly to children.

“Ok, game time!” Jack opened the bookshop door, next to a poster featuring John’s face and _Journal of Impossible Things_. “Remember your talking points: Book Two of the trilogy coming out 2018. Date to be announced first on your official Facebook page.”

“You have a lot of faith in me.”

“I do!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Rose peeked at the clock. Handed a customer a receipt. Bit her lip.

“Will you stop fretting and go?” Clara called. “We’ve got it! Just leave before the crowd, because we’ll probably get a rush.”

“Are you sure?” 

Bill returned to the counter with empty cups. “Seriously. Go be with your daughter!” 

“You two are the best and I don’t tell you enough!” Rose hurried to grab her coat. 

“You do, actually!” said Clara, right as Bill said, “Apron!” 

“Right!” Rose laughed and untied it. 

 

The event was underway when Rose slipped in the door, surprised to see how many people filled the open lobby of the relatively small bookshop. She’d have to ask later how this particular store had managed to score such a popular YA author right before Christmas, especially one who, according to the internet, hadn’t made any public appearances since the book’s promotional tour two years earlier. 

The author in question was reading in a chair, leaning on crossed legs with glasses perched on his nose. Susan was, of course, front and center with Jackie among the teens and preeteens. Imagining Jackie complaining about being made to sit on the floor gave Rose a quiet chuckle, but this also meant she wouldn’t be able to sit with them without making a fuss. She shrugged off her coat and took a chair on the side wall. 

It turned out to be a good view. He sat slightly in profile to her--he’d grown a short beard since the promotional photo was taken--and smiled and engaged the kids as he read. She knew this chapter well, because Susan had drifted to sleep to it two nights in a row and kept wanting to start over. 

John Smith had a soft northern accent and his cadence differed from how she had read it, so she paid attention, thinking she might adjust toward his style. When he pronounced a name differently than she’d assumed, she was amused to see Susan open her notebook and scribble. It was a turning point chapter with several quotable lines, which many of the fans murmured as he read them. She couldn’t help grinning. 

A boy and a girl were at the table behind him, organizing books and bookplates for signing. She idly wondered if they were his children, though she didn’t remember a mention of a family in the author blurb. It was funny how she’d never given much thought to the person whose photo she saw nearly every bedtime for the last several months. But now that he was a flesh and blood man sat in front of her…the whole picture mesmerized her a bit, from legs seeming to take up most of his body, to the leather jacket, to his hands holding the book, a black and white watch on his wrist, long fingers turning pages as the Autons moved in for the kill...

“‘ _Jamie, when I say run, run like a rabbit,’ said Grandfather, moving slowly along the wall. Jamie nodded, his heart racing as the shop dummies drew closer_.” 

Then John Smith looked right at her and read: “ _Run_!”

His blue eyes locked onto hers over his glasses, and the flow of words continued, but the word “run” echoed in her ears, for a moment that seemed to stretch until she opened her mouth for a quick inhale. He had moved on, spreading eye contact throughout the room, and she was left with her adrenaline jolt and nowhere to go with it. She looked at the floor until her pulse calmed. What in the world? 

She finally glanced at him again when he stumbled over a sentence and immediately made a joke about it. The kids laughed along and she felt her own tension easing. He continued reading and she closed her eyes to let the words of the following passages wash over her. It was lovely.

After a few minutes her eyes lingered on his compelling profile again. He wore a blue jumper that would probably match his eyes, but she didn't dare meet them again to find out. But he didn’t seem to look back at her either, which was probably for the best. 

Too soon, he closed the book. The bookshop owner announced a quick break before the meet-and-greet began, so Rose made her exit. On the short walk back to the Bad Wolf and as she bustled around getting ready to work again, she couldn’t stop replaying the whole scene. His voice, which she didn’t want to forget, and his eyes meeting hers…. _run_. 

She startled when Clara asked her how it went, but answered, “Good! Yeah, good! He was really...good.”

“What is with you? You’re beet red. Did something happen?” 

“No! I just got a little star-struck--it’s so silly.”

Bill paused curiously at the flyer on the bulletin board. “Guess he’s all right for a bloke,” she said with a wink. 

Clara laughed. “Ah, I get it! You should’ve seen me when I made a souffle for JK Rowling! Thought I would faint. Did you get to meet him?” 

“No, they were just starting the signing. Susan will meet him; that’s the important thing!” 

“You want to run back and get in line with her?” 

But the door chimed and two families walked in, and they all dropped into their well-practiced roles. For the next hour she made coffee and tea and sold cupcakes and muffins and occasionally swooped out to the dining room to assist Bill. She was headed back behind the counter when Jackie and Susan opened the door. 

“Darling! Did you get your book signed?” 

“Yes! And look who came with us!” 

John Smith was walking into the Bad Wolf Cafe. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John had been pleased about how smoothly the event was going. For all his grousing about publicity being part of the job of author, his tension always melted away in the process of actually speaking with his young fans. To the media, not so much, although he’d had enjoyable BBC Radio book club interviews. But overall this was a good event to get used to being back out there. 

He’d chosen an action-packed chapter he’d always been particularly proud of. As he began to read, he tried to forget about looking around the room for any mother-daughter combination who looked like they could be Susan and her mum--there were at least a few options. 

He halfway noticed a woman slip in quietly to a side chair by herself. It was only when he approached the climactic moment of the scene that he got a good look at her, leaning forward on crossed arms, watching the children sitting in the front, in an ice-blue jumper. In the next moment she broke into a smile so wide it nearly made him miss a word. When his eyes next passed over her, she was watching Ben and Polly work behind him, so he sneaked in an extra few seconds. 

She had the most stunning face he’d seen in as long as he could remember--strong jaw and cheekbones, full lips pursed, and blond hair loosely caught in a clip. He looked around her for a child but she didn’t appear to be with anyone. He was annoyed at the sudden hollow feeling that gave him. But he decided to risk one more full-on look at her face, as he got to the word “run,” and locked eyes with her. 

It had to have been barely a second, and he moved right along, his muscle memory thankfully taking over, but a few seconds later the adrenaline caught up with him and he nearly made word salad out of a sentence. One self-deprecating joke and he was back in business, with hopefully no one the wiser. He’d never been one to get tripped up by a pretty face before. What was happening to him lately? He imagined Jack saying, “You’re finally ready to move on.” 

He chanced another glimpse to find her eyes closed as she listened, a soft smile on her face. _Angelic_ , he thought, and he felt the tips of his ears heat up, proud that his words had moved her like this. This was followed by a scoff at himself for being so foolish. He continued the chapter and at some point felt her eyes scrutinizing him again, but he didn’t dare look directly at her. 

When he finished, he could tell from the corner of his eye she was smiling broadly and clapping, but he got caught up in the transition and by the time he looked again, she was gone. He searched the forming line, but could find no trace of her, and quelled the rising instinct in his bones to take off running out the door. 

Jack caught his eye from the back of the room and mouthed ‘ _what_?’ John shook his head and sat at the table. “Now, if you all will start at this side, my lovely assistants will help you decide what to get signed!” 

 

John moved smoothly through the line, the shared enthusiasm over his characters affecting him deeply. He chatted and laughed with the fans, and was overcome to find some people had taken the time to dress like his characters. He saw a few kilts and headbands, a young newlywed couple dressed as Jamie and Zoe, and one family even came through the line with a girl in an Ace jacket and a boy in full Scottish regalia while the dad wore an Astrakhan hat and cape. He happily stepped out to take a picture with them. Other people turned around for selfies.

By the time a brown-haired girl in a headband and a older, pretty blonde woman stepped in front of him, he’d spent a number of minutes not thinking once about Susan’s Mum. The girl stared and opened and closed her mouth a couple times, but John was used to kids getting shy as soon as they got to him and drew her out. 

“What have you got there? Drawings? I’d love to see.”

The woman spoke. “Great artist, she is, and your book is her very favorite! She just had her birthday with a TARDIS cake, tell ‘im, love.” 

“A TARDIS cake? Wish I could’ve seen that.” John smiled at her. 

“I drew it! Here--” the girl flipped through her notebook, confidence rising in her voice. She flashed a big triumphant smile and whipped out a full color drawing. “I gave this to Clara, that’s my mum’s assistant. She’s brilliant at cakes and made the whole thing so it was the same shape and color, and I got to eat the top!” 

“Fantastic.” He smiled and nodded at the girl’s mother.

“Clara said it turned her fingers blue for days!”

“I imagine it would. That’s a lot of food coloring! Well, I am so pleased you wanted to have it for your cake. So what would you like me to sign? We have bookplates if you want to add one to your own book, or any of your art.” 

“Um,” she swished through a few pages in her notebook. “Bookplate!” 

“Bookplate it is! Oh, silly me, I forgot to ask your name.” 

“Susan Foreman.”

John dropped his pen.

He grabbed at it and pushed _Susan Foreman’s_ notebook off the table in the process, and papers went flying. He jumped out of his chair. Polly was already there, but he rounded the table anyway, almost bumping into... _that couldn’t be her, could it_? “Sorry, so sorry, ma’am--”

He dropped to his knees and helped Susan gather her papers. “So clumsy, me, what have I gone and done?”

But Susan looked elated. “I’m gonna tell my friends John Smith had to pick up all my stuff!” 

“Well, if she’d actually put things in the binder, like I always tell her, it wouldn’t be so easy to spill, would it? Don’t you worry, this isn’t the first time.” 

Maybe he had it all wrong; she said she’d had Susan “so young,” and he’d assumed...? Or maybe it was tall tales. They had a fun correspondence, she didn’t owe him a correct tally of her life. He had to think of something to say, something not creepy, something that would let him figure out what--

“I promise it’s fine,” the woman continued.

He handed Susan her things and stood. The last thirty seconds had been an eternity. Jack strolled up casually and leaned over to whisper back and forth with Ben. There were three more people in line. 

“I’m just glad the reporter’s gone,” Jack announced, to general laughter. 

John laughed along and refocused. “Shall we give it another try, Susan?” He didn’t bother to go back to his seat on the other side of the table. He signed her bookplate: “To Susan, may your art always lead you home. Love always, John Smith.” 

He had no good reason to do anything else except move on to the next fans. He made eye contact with Jack, a silent plea, and said, “It was wonderful to meet you, Susan. I wish we had more time to talk.” 

They moved on, he turned and warmly greeted the next fan, and to his great relief, he overheard Jack make his patented introduction. When he finished with the last person, he found Susan was still there, now excitedly chatting with Polly, and Jack, talking with--

“John! Susan has so graciously invited us to her mum’s cafe!” Jack gave just enough emphasis on “her mum” that John almost glared, then smiled at the woman. 

“You’re too kind.”

“Oh, they’d be thrilled. You know, such big fans.” She held out her hand. “Jackie Tyler.” 

“Great to meet you...Jackie.” He shook her hand and glanced at Jack, who smiled beatifically. 

“Well, shall we?” Jack said. “The store’s going to take care of closing up the rest.”

“We’d better go ahead,” Jackie called, “make sure we can find a spot for you if there’s still a lunch crowd. Susan, come on!” 

They went out the door. “What have you done?” John asked.

“You wanted to get to know the real Susan’s mum, didn’t you? I got you a chance. Stop worrying.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Oh, we had a great talk, Jackie and I. Ready, kiddos?” 

Ben and Polly grabbed their coats. 

 

John’s nerves made him stalk after them too fast, Jack wouldn’t say a word, and they nearly had caught up with Susan and Jackie by the time they were walking into the Bad Wolf Cafe. 

Susan ran ahead and hugged... _her_. 

It was _her_. 

“Look who came with us!” Susan said.

And _she_ smiled at him, and _she_ was holding out her hand and he took it and pumped it too enthusiastically. 

“Wonderful to meet you. I sor’of had--a mishap with Susan’s things and I’m glad she forgave me. Oh, I’m John. Which you probably knew, of course. Already. But that’s my name. John Smith.” _Shut up shut up._

“Lovely to meet you, officially, _John Smith_. Rose Tyler-Foreman.” She smiled, and she was biting her tongue the tiniest bit, and he probably wasn’t going to make it. And he was still holding her hand. He let go and put his hands in his coat pockets. _Rose._

“So. You’re Susan’s mum? I saw you at the bookstore.” _Rose._

She blinked and glanced away for the tiniest second, then smiled again, “Guilty as charged! I only had a few minutes to sneak in. Lunch rush, you know.” 

“Of course! I’m not keeping you from your work, am I?”

“No, it’s dying down. Anyway! What can I bring you to drink?” 

John couldn’t think. 

“Coffee? Tea?” she offered. “We, um, do our own blends, listed on the board. Or cocoa, if you like?”

“Cocoa!” He’d probably actually like tea, but he focused on the last thing she said.

She smiled again. “Coming right up. And--I think Susan’s got you a spot.” She pointed. “With your...kids?”

Suddenly Jack was there, turning on the charm. He stuck out his hand, “Jack Harkness. Agent. Best friend.” 

Rose laughed and gave _Jack_ the same tongue-touched smile. “Well, hello! Ooh, you’re American! Hello.” She laughed. “That was hello twice. Sorry, s’been a day already!” 

“Those are _his_ kids, though they like me better most of the time.” John said, and smiled a bit sharply at Jack over Rose’s head. “Jack, shouldn’t you go find the rest of your family?” 

“Can’t I say hello?” Jack continued shaking her hand, and winked at him. Realizing Jack was purposely winding him up didn’t help his nerves. “But Ianto took the boys to the park, so I’ll go find them. Maybe I can get a latte to go?”

“No problem! And I’ll bring you your cocoa right after,” Rose said to John, who stood nodding dumbly. 

Jack turned John’s shoulders in the direction of the back tables and gave him a push. “Go, sit. Talk to the kids, so you’ve remembered how to talk by the time she comes over.” 

“Had to let me suffer, eh?”

“I gotta be me! Well, I’ve done my part, the rest is up to you. Hey, it’s just like writing books!”

John was already halfway across the cafe. 

 

He drew up a chair next to the kids, who were deep into a discussion about which character was their favorite, and watched them, amused, for a minute. 

“Mr. Smith,” Susan turned to him. “How did you get the idea for the book?”

“Well, I was probably about your age. I used to wish I could travel in space--I’m sure every kid does. So I’d think about it before I went to sleep, how amazin’ it would be to have an alien friend who’d take me with him on a spaceship. A couple of the adventures in the book were ones I used to make up stories about. Naturally, I had to think of some best friends to go too.” 

“A lot of times I imagine I’m one of the friends on the TARDIS.”

Polly nodded. “Me too.” 

“That makes me very happy. And proud. To make a world people want to spend time in.”

“I draw it sometimes. If you want to see.” 

“I’d be delighted. Though I think I saw a few when I was picking things up. I hope you can find them again!”

Susan giggled and rummaged through her folder, before pulling out two papers. He recognized the scenes in both of them. 

“These are wonderful. Look at the expressions on their faces! Ben’s done some drawings too.”

“I made a Dalek battle scene,” said Ben. “That’s my favorite.” 

“Were they your friends in real life? Zoe and Ace and Jamie?” Susan asked.

“I did have a friend named Jamie, but he moved back to Scotland after a few years. I missed him a lot. I didn’t really have a best friend again until I met their dad.” 

“In the Army!” said Ben. 

“He was a doctor,” said Polly.

“You were?” Susan looked impressed. “What kind of doctor?”

“The kind who takes care of soldiers. But that was a long time ago now.” A cup of cocoa appeared in front of him and he turned to see Rose looking at him thoughtfully. 

He jumped up. “Hi! Thank you! Would you like to sit?”

“Still on duty, but thank you. Please, relax, and enjoy your drink. It’s so kind--” she waved at the drawings, “what you’re doing.”

“Trust me, it’s my pleasure.” He sat and took a sip. It was...heavenly. “‘S’wonderful. I hardly ever order cocoa because it’s usually too sweet.”

Rose looked pleased. “I’m glad you gave it a chance. It’s my favorite treat, actually, though I drink tea mostly.” 

He took another drink. “In bliss is quenched my thirsty heart.” 

Rose blinked. “Oh?”

“Oh! Sorry, it’s a poem, about the pleasures of chocolate, in all its many forms. Very old one. Hot cocoa goes way back.”

“I see!” Her smile…. “Yeah, if we were Aztecs, I’d have just proposed to you. ” She burst out laughing. “I don’t know why I said that, s’just a story I heard.” 

“ _Mum!_ ” Susan whispered, giggling. 

John could feel his mouth dropping open. _Here’s your moment, mate._

“Hey, babe!” A man walked up behind Rose. 

“There they are!” Ben stood and waved. “Dads!”

Before John could get a handle on the fact that this man had kissed Rose’s cheek and was now saying something about “ready for tonight,” a lapful of chattering twins leaped onto him, Ianto and Jack were there, Polly asked for cupcake money, and Rose was walking back to the counter, heads together and talking low with--

He shifted the boys to one side and leaned conspiratorially toward Susan, letting the general chaos of the Harkness-Jones family float out of his awareness. “Who’s that?” He nodded toward Rose.

She seemed proud to be asked. “Uncle Mickey,” she said with an important tone. 

“Ah.” John made himself deliberately casual. “Your uncle?” 

“Well, he’s not really my uncle. He’s my mum’s best mate.” 

“Oh.” Maybe it wasn’t serious. 

“They’re going on _dates_ now.” She said it like it was funny. 

“Right, right, ‘course.” And he felt immediately guilty for prying and shook his head. “None o’ my business anyway!”

But as he watched Rose walk with Mickey to the door, a stone dropped in his gut. She’d stopped writing to him. And now he knew why.

_TBC_

Bonus Features: Moodboard!  



	4. Chapter 4

_~December 21~_

“Let me make you a coffee,” Rose told Mickey, leading him back to the counter. 

He leaned over the display case. “Blueberry muffin, too. Looks good, my mouth’s watering! And ring me up this time.” 

“All right, if you insist!” She smiled at him, but her words were still ringing in her ears. At least Mickey had shown up as a distraction when she’d made a bloody fool of herself in front of John Smith. _Proposed._ She’d intended it as a joke, okay fine, maybe a little bit flirty, but he’d seemed taken aback, and did _not_ laugh, and she realized he must get a lot of pushy people coming at him. _Shit._

“Got a minute? I have news.” 

“Yeah, hang on, I--gotta check on something.” 

She flew through the kitchen doors. “What is wrong with me?” 

“What happened?” Clara looked up from the fondant she was carefully placing over a cake layer. 

Bill followed, grinning. “I think Mr. Famous Author likes you!” 

Rose waved at her flaming cheeks. “Nope, let me get this foot out of my mouth! Obviously, I can’t remember how to flirt right.” It had been a long time since she’d forgotten herself and flirted intentionally. Normally she stayed inside her carefully modulated friendliness, because customers could become a problem. But he’d been looking at her with such intensity she could feel it rolling around in her spine. 

“So...you _were_ flirting,” Bill said with a mischievous grin, loading a tray. She pushed the door with her back and added in a half-whisper, “He watched you all the way here, so I don’t think you messed up anything.” 

“What is going on? _Mickey_ is here. We have a proper date tonight!” She’d been feeling awkward with him since agreeing to a this date, though she tried very hard not to show it. And he seemed to be acting more boyfriend-y, which was giving her weird teenage flashbacks. Might be time to admit this was a mistake. 

Clara seemed just as amused. “ _You_ \--having romantic dramas, I love it! Considering all the time you’ve spent listening to ours, it’s about time!” 

“This is not--not that. I just had a _moment_.” She leaned on the wall and groaned. “I don’t know!”

“I think it’s a sign that you should start actually putting yourself out there. Starting with going back to the dining room! Shoo!” 

Rose put on a neutral smile and returned to the front to start Mickey’s drink, mocha with an extra pull. In a to-go cup. The routine calmed her heartbeat. She handed Mickey his drink and muffin and rang him up along with Susan’s new friends, who came up to buy cupcakes. 

She leaned on the counter. “News?”

“You’ll be getting a call from a, well, government-related agency. I’m getting a security clearance for a new job and I listed you as a personal reference.”

“Mickey! I didn’t know you were looking. You just got promoted! Where is it?”

“Wasn’t looking. They recruited me. And I can’t tell you yet, but it’s a good, good thing.” 

“Clearance! That’s exciting. Wait, do they know about…?” She lowered her voice and gave him a significant look. 

He laughed. “Yeah, apparently that’s how they found me. So you can tell ‘em anything you know. My new boss was a teenage hacker too.” 

Rose punched his shoulder playfully. “I’m so happy for you!” He beamed proudly and she realized her awkwardness had melted away. He was still her best mate, regardless, and she was the one having emotional upheaval lately. 

“Not bad for a kid from the estates, eh?” 

Bill, straightening things in the dining room, caught her eye. She gave Rose a questioning look and tilted her head toward the group in the back. Rose nodded at her and grinned at Mickey, “Not bad at all! Now, let me finish up so I can go home and get ready.” 

He grabbed his cup and did a little move on his way to the door. “I’m ready to dance now!” 

“Me too! See ya!” She really had been looking forward to getting out on an actual dance floor and shaking loose. It had been too long since she’d been able to burn off some stress with a good hard dance.

She rounded the counter to go check on those last remaining customers (and hopefully redeem herself) and nearly ran into John. “Oh, hi!” she said too loudly. “I was, um, coming to see if I could get you anything.” 

“We’ve...gotta get going,” he said with a smile. “But it was great meeting you.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks so much for coming in.” 

He nodded and in a few steps, he was out the door. She watched his profile as he passed quickly by the window. 

_Oh_.

The rest of the family trickled behind. Jack came next, pulling a small, grumpy boy behind him. “I just found out my husband has been here without me! We’ll have to come here more often now that I know the secret.”

“Thank you so much!” She looked at the other man ushering the children toward the door. “Oh, hello! Ianto--Red Riding Hood!” 

“You remember!” 

“That’s my favorite blend--I always remember who orders it.” 

Jack looked out the window, then back at Rose with a brilliant smile. “Maybe we’ll be back tomorrow morning, have a more peaceful grown-up time.” 

“We’d be delighted to have you!”

As the door closed after them, the silence in the empty cafe seemed more profound than usual. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“What exactly is wrong with you?” Jack asked, when he’d caught up with John back at his house. John had his satchel open and letters spread across the table. 

“Nothing!”

“Did you tell her who you are? Why did you go running out of there so fast? Your penpal dream girl turns out to be the beautiful lady who sat there practically drooling over you the whole time you were reading...amazing.”

“I didn’t say anything. I was going to--should have. She even mentioned something I, as the Doctor, wrote her in a letter. As a joke, kind of. But I froze. I just sor’ of stared at her like a fool. That’s when you lot came in.”

“Okay, so you got a good opening! And you’ll have another chance because we’re going back for breakfast tomorrow!” 

“I don’t think so…”

“We’re meeting up with Martha. I just texted her. She’s thrilled you’re in town, so she can actually _see_ you this time.” Jack gave it enough emphasis to be a message. 

“I have missed her.”

“And she wants to hang out with me too, even though I told her I’m going to pitch her something.”

“‘Course you are.”

“So I gave her the Bad Wolf Cafe address. And it’ll give _you_ a chance to talk to Rose again.”

John looked away. _See her again_. “It’s too late for that, anyway. She’s got a boyfriend.” 

“Huh. She never said anything in the letters? Well, I guess she never expected to meet you. But you said her daughter thought she was lonely?”

“Well, something changed. She stopped writing to me.”

“I still think you’re reading too much into that--there could be letters waiting for you at home.”

“Anyway, she’s datin’ this bloke called Mickey. Old friends, apparently. He came in the same time as you, kissed her.” He was annoyed at how his heart squeezed at the memory. 

“That guy? Oh, I don’t know, they didn’t seem very couple-y to me. And I could see how she was looking at you. And as you were leaving? Disappointed, I would say!”

John harrumphed. But he thought about Rose’s smile and how her hand felt in his...how easy it was to talk to her. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled hopefully at Jack. “Yeah?”

“You should tell her about yourself _anyway_. Boyfriend or no boyfriend. This is the first woman who’s actually put a spark in you in I don’t wanna think about how long. We can’t keep fixing you up with people only to have you act like a dull dud.”

“I tried, when you fixed me up.” John shrugged. “Gave the online thing a try, too, you’ll recall. At _your_ insistence.”

“Agree to disagree about whether what you did counts as trying! Somehow I think you like living the monk lifestyle.”

Protests rose up in his throat, but he didn’t bother. Jack was wrong. There were many times he’d even ached to have Romana back, the way they were in the beginning, before they came back to England, and before the disappointment in her eyes. 

Sometimes he supposed he’d be living out the rest of his life alone in his cabin, writing his books, getting grizzled and eccentric--there was a kind of writerly drama about it. But the truth was he didn’t want to be alone in his bed forever. 

He’d lain in that bed, reading _Rose’s_ letters. ( _Her name is Rose.)_ The only time it never felt empty. He closed his eyes. Pictured what she would look like next to him. What he could do to make her happy-- 

Jack was still talking. “Hey, sorry if that was mean.” He touched John’s arm. “I know it’s not easy, finding someone who fits. That’s why I think it’s important you not give up on her so quickly. If you could have seen your face when you realized who she was.”

“You know what? You’re right. I’ll go.” He knew what to do now. 

“Huh, my powers of persuasion are even better than I thought!’

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In the late evening, John told Jack and Ianto he was retiring to his room to write. He sat at the small guest room secretary desk and took out his stationery and pen from his satchel. He put the stack of Rose’s letters on the desk where he could look at them. 

> ~~Dear Susan’s Mum~~  Dear Rose,
> 
> Rose. It feels so right to say that. Surprise! I should have said this the moment I met you, but I’m the Doctor. As for why I didn’t, I have to confess to pure cowardice. I was so stunned to actually meet you. 
> 
> I should back up--it was a lark of a decision to come to your neighborhood. Of course, I knew your address from the envelopes though I never tried to find anything else (enjoyed this little mystery we were co-writing too much). And suddenly I was holding in my hands a chance to make an appearance on that same street, and I couldn’t help myself. Writing to you was such an unexpected joy and I quickly grew addicted to it. I thought there was a chance, maybe a small one, that you and Susan would come to hear me. I told myself to stop being stupid, so many reasons not to think it was a good idea. Oh, but I had hope. Hope that kicked into high gear when I stood in your shop and realized who you were. 
> 
> Regardless of my hopes, your life is your life, and if the universe only had this momentary connection in store for us, then I will still be grateful to the universe for the rest of my life.
> 
> I hope you’ll forgive me for writing--there are times words come more easily to my pen. Maybe I can put this in your hands, maybe it will come to you the way every other letter has. 
> 
> Love Always, ~~The Doctor~~ John

He folded the letter slowly, drawing out the ritual, running his finger across the ridge of paper an extra time for good measure. He wrote out her full name (for the first time) and address on the envelope, but didn’t affix the stamp. 

_Maybe. Maybe tomorrow._

When he slid into the cool sheets and turned off the lamp, his mind was at peace. He decided to get up early and go to the Bad Wolf ahead of Jack. See if maybe she wanted to talk to him. He thought of her face--watching him read in the bookstore, a slight furrow in her brow, her tongue that she bit when she laughed--and now he imagined her sitting at a cafe table writing the words that he’d just re-read. It suited her. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

> Dear Doctor,
> 
> Been a little while since my last letter. I can’t think of what to say, other than I had some confused feelings. So I’ll just jump in and talk about something that happened during my day, even though we haven’t really done that much before. 
> 
> So, long story short, I had a date tonight. And it’s funny, Susan first wrote to you because she wanted me to be happy, and I could almost believe you’re really a wish-granter, because something has changed for me. I’d been carrying on because that’s what you do. And then somehow, while I was writing to you, I got excited to be alive again. Excited to get mail. Excited to listen to new songs and read new books. (I have four of them, next to my bed, ones we talked about.) And it seemed you were too. I got two more letters after the last one I sent and I just read them again, and I’m so sorry, I just left off in the middle of the conversation. 
> 
> Anyway, the date! It was nice. Relaxing and fun because it was my best mate, actually. We went dancing. And I thought I might be ready, that all these changes meant it was time to open up to possibilities. So at the end of the night, I was thinking I should just kiss him. Just try and see how it feels. But when the moment came, it didn’t feel right. Now that I’ve been excited again, I don’t think I can settle for just “nice.” Does that make sense? Regardless of what my mum thinks (that’s another story). 
> 
> I hope it’s okay to talk about this. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you or if I’ll send it. I just got home, and really wanted to talk to you. 

Rose frowned at the page. _What are you doing?_ She left the letter on her desk and got into bed. She was going to have to talk to Mickey. Should’ve ripped off the bandaid tonight, but she’d chickened out. 

She considered the stack of books under her table lamp, and reached for an old favorite romance novel. But a couple attempts at a page later, she put it down and turned off the light and gave in to what her brain wanted to think about.

John Smith and his reading voice. John Smith when he met her eyes over his glasses. John Smith _in her cafe_. Now that she went over everything, his grin and his pink ears--it might have been the cold or might have been a blush? Her heart fluttered at the thought. But then he left so quickly, and she’d probably never see him again. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_~December 22~_

John whipped off his knit cap before opening the door to the Bad Wolf Cafe. He was glad for the bracing walk, especially in light of his increasing nerves. The bells chimed and he stepped up to the counter. 

A pretty brunette woman came out from the kitchen. “Oh! Hello!” He didn’t recall seeing her the day before, though she seemed to recognize him. 

After a moment, he realized he was standing awkwardly inside the door with his mouth open and lurched forward. “Hi! Yes, is, um--”

“Rose!” She called toward the kitchen door. “You have a customer.” She winked at John and said, “She’s made some gorgeous scones today,” before disappearing. 

Rose walked out, in a pink t-shirt sprinkled with flour, and wiping her hands on the the apron tied lower on her waist. Her eyes widened for a brief second before she smiled brightly. “Hello again! What can I get for you?” 

He walked up to the counter and looked over the shelf already filled with cupcakes and muffins and up at the menu board with the list of specialty tea blends and souffles available by special order. The chalk letters were her handwriting. “Tea! Breakfast, or actually, surprise me with something.” 

“All right, I will.” Her tongue appeared when she smiled this time. “I have to warn you, ’m scary good at picking what people are gonna like. How do you take it?” 

He laughed and relaxed. “Milk and two sugars. Sounds like I’m in good hands. And scones, do you have scones?” 

“Yes, I’ve got some banana scones about to come out of the oven, in fact!”

“Banana!” he said, a little too loudly, then quieter. “I like bananas.” 

“Perfect! I’m pretty excited about this recipe, though it’s the first time I’ve tried it, so you’ll have to tell me the truth.” She set about making his tea. 

“Ok, will do, but then you’ll have to bring some for yourself and try them with me.” 

“All right, it’s a deal.” She handed him a cup and saucer. “Find a spot. I’ll be right out with your scones.” 

He headed again for the back of the cafe and chose a side where he could see Jack and Martha coming in the door. A wall of framed photographs was next to his table, and he examined the bottom row. The Rosette Nebula. It made him smile that she would put that up. He wondered if she liked other namesake things. Next a profile shot of a handsome young man in front of a fireplace. And then a bright city-- _Barcelona_ , she’d said, and now he recognized the skyline. 

In the center of the collage: a young, apple-cheeked Rose holding a baby, and the same man hugging her from behind. The brightness of her smile reminded him of Susan’s first letter, her fondest wish to see her mother like this again. Rose had written that she was truly smiling again, and he’d already seen it himself. _Was it quite like this? Is anything ever quite the same after an accumulation of sorrows?_

“That’s my husband.” 

He startled at Rose’s voice behind him, and realized he was leaning down and examining the family picture closely. He turned around and smiled at her. “You have a beautiful family.” 

“That is, I should say--my late husband.” She set a plate of scones on the table. “We started this cafe together and this wall was his project.” She smiled fondly.

“I think I can see the theme now. A column of stars, a column of family, and a column of places.” 

“Yes, he said ‘keep us in the middle for grounding’ and then we have our wishes around us. Traveling is the dream. We can’t go to to the stars, but we can pick a city on earth.” 

“I can appreciate that.” He took his seat and waved at the table. “Can you sneak away for a little bit? Sit with me for the taste test?” 

She looked at the door, then back at him slyly. “S’pose I can get away with it for a bit.” She sat opposite him.

John picked up a scone and waited for her to reach. “On three...one, two, three.” And they both bit, Rose laughing and covering her mouth. 

“Fantastic! I mean, I’m no baker, but--” He took another bite and considered. “Buttery, crumbling just right, and bits of banana, that’s brilliant!” He sipped his tea. 

“That’s a great review, thank you! I like it too.” She brushed her shirt. “It’s crumbly, all right.” 

“Perfect tea, too, I might have known. Too bad I have to go back home, or I’d make your place my new breakfast habit.”

“Oh, you’re leaving?” _Was that disappointment in her voice or was he wishing too much?_

“Got to get home sometime! Got a sequel that won’t write itself, and staying with my friends--well, it’s a busy house. And maybe more book promotions to do--not sure about that.” 

“How do you know Ianto and Jack?” 

“I met Jack when I took a bullet out of him.” At Rose’s raised eyebrows, he continued with a laugh. “Not as bad as it sounds. He was an Army captain, caught one one in the shoulder out in the field. Always cheating death, that one.”

“Well, maybe he just had you around to keep him safe.” 

“I did my best.” He took the opportunity of another bite of (truly heavenly) banana scone to hide his face a bit. He could feel the tips of his ears heating up. He rushed on. “And I met Ianto when I came back between tours. Found Jack had an instant family.” 

“Aww. I don’t know him too well, but Ianto has made me laugh early in the morning, and that makes him pretty special in my book.”

He laughed. “I can see that happening.” 

“So a doctor who also writes novels? I don’t know how you find the time!” 

“Ah, I don’t practice anymore. Well, currently that is. Hospital rounds didn’t suit me when I got home. So I ran away to the country and started writing the book I had in my head.”

“Wow. And, I feel silly saying this because you probably hear it all the time. But it’s good, the way you can bring us all into space and those planets and alien cultures. I mean so good. And for a first novel!”

“I had some help. Since I didn’t know what I was doing, I hired an editor to come out and work with me. She sharpened up my words and kept me humble and sassed me a lot.”

Rose laughed. “That sounds like fun.” 

“Plus she could type like the wind, so sometimes she’d get frustrated and take over typing, and then figure out that I was winding her up to get her to do it.” He grinned. “Yeah, we had a lot of laughs, s’like we were on the adventures together sometimes.” 

“I understand! It’s like--and now this _is_ silly, but I’m gonna tell you anyway. Sometimes when I’m baking-- _really_ in the zone--I don’t have any radio on or anything, and I just imagine being there, out in space, traveling by police box. I think about what it would be like to be close enough to see this. Or even be inside it.” She pointed at the framed photo of the Pillars of Creation. 

He dropped his elbows onto the table, hands clasped in the middle. “That’s what I saw all the time. It’s why I had to write them. ” 

She dropped a hand lightly over his. “I’m so glad you did.” It was gone a moment later, but the sensation seemed to zing up his arms. 

“Now this view, I _have_ seen.” She pointed to a photo of a full moon surrounded by stars. “Because I took this shot. We found the best dark skies in the city, which is not easy! Morden Hall Park.” 

“That’s an amazing picture! You must be really good.” 

“Thank you, I used to do it a lot more. Now most of my fancy photography is of baked goods.” 

“I bet it sells!” He waved at the scone plate. “Baker and photographer--is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Well, not all of us can live a life of letters,” she said teasingly.

He met her eyes. “Sometimes letters are all you have.”

“Ahh, you have _no_ idea.” She stood, laughing, as if at a private joke, but one that he understood all too well. 

“I might.” He reached into his coat pocket and felt--nothing. _The letter_. 

The doors chimed. “Ah, now I really gotta run. Enjoy the rest of those! I’ll bring you some more tea in a bit.” 

He watched her all the way back to the counter, still feeling around in his pocket, and then every other pocket, as if it might materialize somewhere. He mentally retraced his steps. For a panicked moment, he imagined it out on the street somewhere, and nearly jumped up to look for it. But then he remembered it was still sitting on the corner of the desk next to where his coat had lain. He hadn’t picked it up. _Stupid_. 

And he’d felt so right, poetic even, about handing her the letter and waiting to see the recognition in her eyes. He had a wild idea about running all the way back to Jack’s to bring it back, but felt even more foolish. 

Jack and Martha walked in the door, with Polly in tow. So, it looked like he’d muffed his chance. Again. 

_TBC_

Bonus Features:  
[Scone recipe](http://bakingbites.com/2006/01/banana-scones/)  
The photo of James*:   


*screenshot from Paper Mask ;)


	5. Chapter 5

“Doctor!” Martha hugged him. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“Martha Jones! It’s been too long.” 

Jack beamed and set two cups on the table. “Look, I’m getting my Christmas wish, all my far-flung family coming together!” 

Polly arrived with a mug of cocoa and a book under her arm. 

“She heard Martha would be here and wouldn’t stay home,” Jack said, as Polly wedged herself in next to Martha. “And apparently her new BFF Susan is supposed come in this morning.”

John tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the counter each time Rose came out to serve customers. For the most part he was able to set aside worries about the missing letter and concentrate on catching up with his friends. Martha had been back in the country for almost a year, but as he’d spent most of it out at his cabin alone, had left it to Jack and Ianto to check in on her.

And apparently they all got on well, as Polly never opened her book, instead peppering admiring questions at Martha, including some pleas for a longer visit. She didn’t even notice when Susan came in with her grandmother. 

Jackie waved to the group and headed for the kitchen, while Susan ran excitedly to their table. “Polly! You came! Wanna sit with me?” 

“Go on, sweetheart,” Jack encouraged her. “Time for boring grown-up talk over here.” 

Susan grabbed Polly’s hand and pulled her to a spot in the corner, the two of them already chattering. 

Jack took a scone off the plate. “So, Martha, ready for my idea?” 

“Lay it on me.” 

“You write your memoirs. An English doctor travels the world, by boat and train and sometimes pack animal, saving people, seeing amazing things.”

“A book? Me?” 

“You have an amazing story to tell. And I may have floated the idea in a few directions already.” 

Martha leaned on her hand and considered. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.” 

“That part we can help you with, too.”

“We? So you’re in on this too?” Martha asked John. 

He smiled and sipped his tea. “First I’m hearing of it! But of course I’d be in, _if_ you wanted to.” 

“I’ll think about it. But I admit, I’m intrigued.” 

Polly ran up to Jack. “Are we still going to the festival tonight?” 

“Yep!” Jack said, and explained to Martha. “It’s a school event. The kids are meeting up with their classmates to ride the Eye, and then we all hang around at the Southbank Centre Christmas Market.”

“Ok, just checking!” Polly turned around and gave a thumbs-up to Susan. 

“What are you girls up to?” Jack asked and Polly whispered in his ear. “Uh-huh. Well, Martha, you should come with us. We’ll make a day of it and you can stay over too.”

“Yes!” Polly said, folding her hands and giving Martha exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. 

“Aww, sounds nice! I’m feeling Christmas-y today.” 

“Comes with a full English at ours tomorrow morning.” 

“Well, that settles it!” 

Polly hugged her. “You can have my bed and I’ll sleep with David and Danny.”

“We’ll shuffle--we’re good at that,” Jack said. 

“What about Uncle John? Are you going too?” She looked at him hopefully.

“He sure is, wouldn’t miss it!” Jack answered, giving John a significant look. 

 

When Rose approached their spot he forgot about playing it cool and let the smile spread across his face. 

“Wow, what’s going on there?” Martha said, _sotto voce_ , looking between him and Rose. 

“Tell you later,” Jack whispered back. 

John didn’t care. Rose poured him fresh tea and set a souffle in front of Martha. The savory smell made his mouth water. “How did you get that?” he asked Martha. “It said allow 30 minutes.” He was beginning to regret not ordering one earlier. 

“She knew the secret.” Rose winked at him. 

“Ianto told me to call ahead.” Martha took a bite and moaned. “My compliments to the chef!”

“I’ll tell her!” 

Susan appeared at John’s elbow, eyes wide and serious. “Mr. Smith. I mean John--do you want to come to our open mic night? It’s tomorrow. You could come and read--shouldn’t he, Mummy? ‘Cause there’s poetry already.”

“Oh, darling, he probably has things to do--” Rose began.

“Everybody can come!”

“Sure! I can do it!” The words were already out of his mouth. “I was going to be in town until Christmas anyway.” Jack raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Please don’t feel put on the spot,” Rose said. “I mean, it should be a fun time! So far I’ve got a few singers and a couple poets. A customer who said he’s going to do comedy--hopefully that won’t go horribly wrong.” She bit her tongue. 

“And Mummy might sing.”

“Oh?” He looked at Rose, and the pinkness spreading up her cheeks.

“I--I’ll be busy working the event, so only if it’s going smoothly, but I’ve done a little practicing.” 

“We can go too, Daddy, right?” Polly piped up.

“I have to discuss it with your dad. But it sounds like fun! Especially if you sing,” Jack told Rose, who laughed and took the teapot. 

“We’d be delighted to have everyone!” She tilted her head toward the counter. “Gotta run!” 

“You could read chapter 1 this time?” Susan asked John. “That’ll make new people want to read it.”

“I’m glad you think so!”

“I like to read it over and over and see them all find each other again.”

John patted her hand where it rested on the table. “One author said that’s the mark of a good book, whether it’s reread. Thank you so much for telling me.” 

Susan grinned. “You’re welcome.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Rose and Jackie held Susan’s hands between them as they made their way through the crowd at the Southbank Centre Christmas Market. 

“I’m coming back here for a pint, I can tell you that,” Jackie said, craning her neck at one of the wooden chalets lining the street. 

“Ride first, then you take Susan to the shops, and then we can get pints!” Rose assured her. “Her class goes at 6:15 and we should be getting there--” She checked her phone. “Twenty minutes early. Hmm, maybe we have time to stop somewhere if you want, Mum.”

“No!” Susan exclaimed and ran forward, yanking both of their hands and nearly making Rose stumble. “We have to go straight there!”

“Blimey, since when do you care about bein’ early?” Jackie said.

“I need to see my friends,” was all Susan would say, but Rose got a glimpse of her face.

“You’re up to something.” She let go and Susan ran ahead. 

“Oh, let her have her fun. It’s Christmas,” Jackie said. “Where is Mickey going to meet us?”

 _Mickey_. She’d forgotten. He’d been planning to join them since long before their official date turned things awkward in her head. 

“Um, back at the market. He’s working until 6, so, he’ll probably text later.” Having that conversation was not something she would have planned to do on this nice kids outing, but it might have to happen. 

“Still not ready to tell me how it went?” Jackie said, and Rose deflated. 

“Mum...I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s not what’s important.”

“So, everything went fine, but truth is, it’s not gonna work out.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it, but you know your heart.” 

“He needs someone who can be all-in for him, and that’s not me. And I’m afraid of losing my friend.” She finally looked over at her mother’s face, and was relieved to find understanding rather than the disapproval she’d feared. 

“Oh, he won’t be like that, I promise he won’t. Just give him some time. What did he say?”

“I haven’t told him yet. I wasn’t sure--until after I was at home.” 

Jackie stopped and hugged her. “I’m sorry. But I still think you were right to try.” 

Rose laughed and squeezed back. “Of course you are. Come on, she’s getting away.” 

Susan was already at the queue and had found a friend. Rose looked closer and realized it was Polly. Her eyes slid from there to the group gathered behind them. The little boys chased each other through various sets of legs, Jack was talking animatedly, she guessed it was about their older son (Ben, she remembered, because Susan had gone on about Polly and Ben), because he set his hands on the boy’s shoulders and squeezed while Ben dropped his head with a shy smile. 

Then their friend, the woman from the cafe this morning, stepped aside and she saw John--in profile, looking on at the group with a soft smile on his face. He wore a black wool coat with his arms crossed over his chest, and one foot in a shiny black dress shoe pointed back toward Rose. It reminded her of her ballet classes--such an oddly endearing pose--and she was struck by an urge to photograph him, especially with the way the late afternoon sun was falling. If only she’d thought to bring her good camera. 

She watched his face while they walked up. He looked distractedly over at the Eye, noticed Polly and Susan, and slowly turned toward her and Jackie. His grin beamed across the remaining distance between them before he crossed it himself. 

“Rose! S’good to see you. Jackie.” He nodded. 

“Well, this certainly is a coincidence,” Jackie said with a sideways glance at Rose. 

“Apparently the girls figured out earlier they were both going to be here,” John said. They joined the rest of the group. 

Their friend reached out a hand to Rose. “Hi, I’m Martha! We didn’t properly meet earlier!” 

“So sorry, forgettin’ me manners,” John said. “Martha and Jack and I go way back. Martha was my trainee--best junior doctor I ever worked with, in fact.” 

“Oh, _you_!” Martha looked pleased.

“S’true! But we lost her to Médecins Sans Frontières.”

“Really!” said Rose, impressed. “Ok, I want to hear literally every story you want to tell!”

Martha laughed. “Oh, we’ll need some time!”

“Let’s get queued,” Ianto called, ushering everyone forward. Polly held onto Susan’s hand and pulled her along with her own class group. Rose noticed Ben carried a vintage camera around his neck and made a note to ask him about it if she got the chance. 

“Have you got your ticket?” Rose called after Susan, and Susan waved. No one seemed to be preventing the school groups from mixing, so she decided not to worry about it. 

After they got the older kids into their capsules, they moved with the rest of the parents toward the exit side to wait. Rose got momentarily jostled in the rush, and a steadying hand landed on her back. John. She mouthed “thank you.” He nodded and pulled his hand away, a little too quickly.

Soon the crowd eased, as closing time grew closer and parents of the earlier groups picked up their kids and moved along. 

“Ah, I think I see someone I know,” Jack said. “David, stay here with Martha.” He placed the boy’s hand in Martha’s and went to whisper in Ianto’s ear. Ianto smiled indulgently and Rose looked away, suddenly feeling like an intruder, though her heart clenched a bit with a sense of loss. Jack strolled away, long coat swishing behind him. 

“Never a dull moment,” said Ianto. 

Rose exchanged smiles with John, who leaned on the railing across from her. His coat had fallen open and revealed a blue dress shirt and well-fitted trousers, the whole look a little more formal than anything she’d seen him in yet. He looked...good. 

He’d come to the cafe that morning and seemed eager to talk to her. And now, here they all were, together again, this time out of any working context for either of them. She was woefully out of practice, but it did seem like he liked her. _Maybe she should throw out an offer to do something together later this evening?_

She let herself have a long look at his face while he watched the twins goof around, and was struck by an impulse to touch it, find out if his beard felt as soft as it looked. She started talking to Martha to move quickly past it. “So, are you back in London to stay?” 

“Yeah, I think so. It was time. I have a baby niece now, and didn’t want to miss her growing up. Not to mention these guys!” She made a silly face at David, who giggled and stepped onto her feet while she rocked him back and forth playfully.

“Aw, congratulations, auntie! S’true, it goes fast.” 

“So I’ve been back almost a year. Working A&E and living with my parents. For now!” She made a mock “I’m going crazy” expression, which cracked Rose up. “So it didn’t take too much convincing for me to stay over with everybody tonight.”

“I can imagine!”

John moved over to their side and Rose met him halfway. “Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye properly earlier, had to run. But it was really nice talking to you this morning.” 

“Same here!” 

Rose could almost feel her mother’s ears perking up. “So John,” Jackie said, moving closer, “You live in the country?” 

Jack swooped back over before anything more could come of that, his coat billowing and his smile devilish. “Hey, John, come with me for a minute. Oh, you too, Rose. You’ll get Susan, won’t you, Jackie?” 

“Of course,” Jackie said, with a curious note in her voice. 

John looked suspicious, but when Rose shrugged and followed Jack, his lip curled in amusement and he muttered, “Sure, why not?” 

Jack led them around a side entrance where a London Eye host stood smiling wanly and holding a basket. 

“Here’s the lucky pair!” Jack announced.

“Jack, what did you do?” John’s low voice held a warning note. 

“Welcome to the Cupid’s Capsule!” said the host.

Jack put an arm around both of them and walked them down the yellow strip where the capsules slowly passed. Several people piled into one ahead of them, and the rest of the queues were empty. “There was a no-show. Go! Enjoy! If anyone asks, you’re Mr. and Mrs. Sato and you’re on your honeymoon. Bye!”

“I think he’s crazy but I’m game,” Rose murmured to John. 

“All right, Mrs. Sato, here we go!” John held out his hand.

She took it, and entwined their fingers, and her heart jumped into her throat when he gave her a squeeze in return.

As the next capsule approached, the host handed John the basket and instructed them on how to enter. They stepped through the door, and Rose laughed heartily as she followed John toward the far side of the pod. “I can’t believe we’re doing this!” 

He set the basket on the bench as they passed it and looked back. “Oh, he didn’t get on with us. Looks like it’s just you and me!” 

“Yeah, looks like!” She couldn’t stop grinning at the warmth in his eyes. Her cheeks might hurt later. 

“Good.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

John watched her tongue go to her teeth in the mischievous way she had and decided he never wanted to let go of her hand. She made no move to pull away either, as they moved in sync to stand in front of the window toward the river. 

The silence was companionable, though he yelled at himself, _Say something!_

She did first. “Well, that was wild. Is Jack always like that?” 

“Yes, actually. He’s gotten me in trouble on occasion, but not too much, so I still keep him around.” John chuckled. “Plus he’s the only reason anyone other than me ever got to read _Journal_.” 

“I’ll have to thank him, then.”

“Have you ever been up here before? I think we’re going to have perfect timing for the sunset. The clouds are breaking just right.” 

“No, I haven’t. You know how it is, you live by the tourist spots but never actually go. We’ve been to the Southbank festival before, though. My mum loves it. And this year, they offered the ride for the students. I can’t wait to hear what Susan has to say.”

“Lucky we all found each other.”

“Oh, I’m suspicious. I think the girls cooked something up.”

“Makes sense. Polly sure made her case for me coming along tonight. Wanted everybody here together.” 

They watched the approaching cityscape for a moment. “So you started to say where you were from--you’re visiting the city, right?” 

“I’ve got a place in the Lake District. When I come in, I usually stay with Jack and Ianto, though sometimes I’ve gotten an Airbnb when I needed to be here awhile. But that was only during promotion time. And I wished I was back in my cabin.”

“Not so into living the life of fame?”

“No,” he said firmly. “And...it’s not like that anyway. It’s the job, to sell get out there and sell it. Means being a public face some of the time. But it’s all…” he waved his free hand. 

“Not your bag?” 

“Well. I truly like meeting the kid fans. And others too, but kids usually are just so happy to be there, all they want is to get to talk to you. It’s great.” 

“You picked the right genre then!” She squeezed his hand before letting it go. “What’s in the basket? Ooh, truffles! And look--” She pulled out a champagne bottle and two glasses and turned to him, waving the glasses with a cheeky smile. 

“Shall we?” 

“Well, it _is_ our honeymoon, Mr.--what’s your name again?” 

“Forgotten already? Uh-oh, trouble in paradise!” He was delighted by the way she laughed. 

“Well, care to do the honors? Better sit this way so we don’t miss anything!” She perched on the end of the bench, but angled to the west. “Oh, look at Big Ben!”

The skyline glowed with the setting sun. As did she. He took off his coat and laid it across the bench, then busied himself with the cork while Rose watched. ( _Was she checking him out?_ ) He was pleased when he got the cork popped without bouncing it off the ceiling. Rose held the glasses and he poured. 

He sat next to her and took a glass. “To new adventures in time and space!”

They toasted and she took a drink and leaned in. “When Susan was little she called that a ‘click’ like ‘let’s click our drinks, click!’” She laughed. “She’d get a fizzy drink.”

He beamed at her. They drank and watched the sky grow closer for a few minutes. She unwound the many layers of wide red tartan scarf from her neck. She didn’t take off her leather coat, but now he could see her outfit was actually black dungarees and a filmy cream-colored blouse. He wondered if it was as silky as it looked. And he remembered himself.

“I should tell you something--” he paused and looked down, heart starting to race. “I--” And decided to back up a step. “I saw you at the reading. Noticed you.” 

She bit her lip. Her eyes were perfectly amber-colored in the light streaming through the window. “I saw you too,” she said, and giggled. “Well, obviously, because it was your show.” Her cheeks flamed and she grabbed her scarf and mock-hid herself in it. “Just ignore me, I don’t know what I’m saying at the moment.”

“No, it’s all right, I get it. So I--I looked for you after, and I was so pleased to find you in the cafe. I really wanted to meet you.” 

He’d taken her hand again and stroked the pad of his thumb along the back of hers. She watched his hand. “I…am glad. Glad you did.” She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. “It feels like I know you, already, is that weird?”

His thumb pressed down on hers and the words rose into his throat. _Actually you do_. “Actually--” 

And she kissed him. Soft lips pressing to his and he was suddenly full of the smell of her. She sat back and he leaned with her before stopping and opening his eyes. Her eyes were wide.

“Oh,” he said.

“Ok?” she whispered.

“Fantastic.” He lifted a palm to her cheek. She glanced from his lips to his eyes, and closed hers. He watched her mouth as she pushed closer to him again, her hand landing on his knee, and he tilted his head and pulled her to him. Her lips parted after a moment and he matched her, lightly tasting her tongue. She made a sound in the back of her throat and he responded, kissing her harder. Her hand went to his face and rubbed the back of her hand across across his whiskers and then slid her hand through his hair. 

He couldn’t leave the bliss of her lips, despite the warning bell of unfinished business going off in the back of his mind. She pulled away with a wicked grin, leaving his hand hovering until he slowly dropped it to her knee, downed the rest of her champagne, and put a hand on the back of his neck to pull him back to her. He chased the refreshed champagne taste. 

How many minutes it went on he couldn’t say, but he was lost and considering some madness like pulling her onto his lap, when the loudspeaker sounded with a ding and the capsule shuddered and came to a halt. They broke apart. 

Rose’s voice was shaky. “The, um, remember they said, might stop for wheelchair assistance.” 

“Right.” He dropped his forehead to hers and closed his eyes for a moment. “Rose, I--”

“The glasses,” Rose said with a laugh. 

“What?” He lifted his head, confused.

She pointed at the plastic champagne glasses which they’d apparently knocked down and sent rolling toward the windows. 

“We’re almost back--better get presentable!” The giddy quality in Rose’s voice made his chest expand. 

“Yeah.” He was still dazed, but when she jumped to gather the glasses, he gathered himself and stuffed the truffle box and what remained of the champagne into the basket, arranging it so it wouldn’t spill on the way out and setting it by the door. He pulled his coat back on--which had become a necessity if they were going to casually walk back out in public. 

Outside the window, the Thames approached. Now only a pink glow remained behind the skyline and clouds were moving overhead. He took a deep breath while Rose wound her seemingly endless scarf back around her neck. He was frazzled and turned on and desperately wanted to keep kissing her. Maybe she would want to go somewhere with him and they could talk more? After all, she’d kissed him first. Surely she wouldn’t care he’d spent these two days _not_ telling her who he was. The right moment kept eluding him, with people and moving capsules and sundry interruptions. That’s what they needed, some time, with peace and privacy.

“Oh, here it comes. Ready?” She grabbed his hand and poised near the door. At the last moment, she turned back and yanked his lapel to steal another kiss, and smiled like sunshine.

His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, but he had the presence of mind to grab the basket as they stepped off the car and set it into the waiting attendant’s hands. “Excellent ride, four stars!” Rose said. 

It appeared they were the last riders, and the other remaining groups were already past the exit. As they walked out from under the shelter, he asked, “Would you like to go…get coffee? Or, not coffee, probably, stupid me--”

“For the record, I only make things I also love,” she said with a wink. “But I’m sure we can come up with somewhere to go. I’ll need to find my mum, check on Susan, yeah?” 

“‘Course, back to the market first!”

They stepped out into the now night sky and he was amazed. “It’s snowing! Fantastic, I don’t think it’s snowed here in the city for, what--?” He grinned at Rose, who had dropped his hand and stood watching the snow falling on Jubilee Gardens. 

“Four years,” she said. She turned back, face stricken. 

“Rose?” 

“Um--I’m so sorry, I gotta go.” Snowflakes gathered on her scarf and in her hair and he wanted to touch them and not think about what she was saying. “I just can’t--” She gestured vaguely. “Right now. ” He could see it now, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. 

“Can’t I--can I take you somewhere?” 

She wiped at her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her while backing away from him. “Need to be alone. ‘M really sorry.” 

She turned to the path they’d been about to take, and ran. 

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Features:
> 
> [Southbank Centre](https://www.visitlondon.com/things-to-do/event/40307288-wintertime-at-southbank-centre#3fL7Y0R2lcuF2Cdm.97)  
> John’s [coat](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/157333401796/fuckyeahecclesex-x) and [clothes ](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/159032148830/girl-from-another-dimension-christopher-eccleston)  
> Rose’s [scarf](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/170205567390/fashionofdoctorwho-billie-piper-live-qa), [outfit](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/120601471475/elizabethswardrobe-billie-piper-at-the-blind), and [jacket ](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/126299388188/harleyquinsn-blog-billie-piper-for-fault-style)


	6. Chapter 6

_“A ghost?” James traced a fingertip around her shoulder blade._

_“Yes, I’d come back as a ghost and haunt you and_ her _, whoever she is.” Rose turned her head back enough to see the indulgent smile on his face. “Just when she gets too comfortable, I’d move the furniture.”_

_His chest rumbled and he squeezed her tighter. “You know, I should have expected this.”_

_“You really should have!” She pulled his arm tightly around her._

_“So you would have me single and mourning the rest of my days?”_

_“Yes, as you should. In proper Victorian mourning attire too. Oh, it would be such gothic romance! I love it!”_

_“Quite romantic for you, as the ghost, I’ll give you that. Less so for me…”_

_“Oh, no, think how terribly poetic you would be too! You could walk the streets at night, longing for your lost love.”_

_“Indeed, I probably would. So we’ve settled it--there is never to be anyone for me but_ you, _ever again in my lifetime.”_

_“Mm-hmm.”_

_“What about you, if something happens to me?”_

_“Nothing can happen to you. I insist on dying first.”_

_“In that case, may you die an old, old woman.” He took advantage of where she’d placed his hand, and nibbled the back of her neck while she giggled._

_“You decided to seduce me while we’re having this morbid conversation?”_

_“Don’t you know contemplating mortality gives humans the urge to create life? Or at least celebrate it.”_

_She scooted onto her back and opened her arms to him. “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that.”_

_He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “Listen to me, Rose Tyler. You and Susan are everything to me. And I want you to be happy and do amazing things and have a brilliant life. No matter what.”_

_“Shh.”_

_“Do you promise me?”_

_“Yes, I promise. Now kiss me again.”_

_~December 23~_

Rose hugged her knees in the same bed as that long-ago morning as the light spilled through the window. She’d slept, finally, wrung out and exhausted. It had been a long time since she’d felt loss so acutely that she cried herself to sleep. A jumble of confused dreams finally woke her, faces blending and changing until she woke with his voice echoing in her ears and this one particular morning on her mind. 

_James_. After it happened she’d smiled patiently through so many well-meaning platitudes and people assuring her about what he would have wanted. But she always knew. Knew him better than anyone. It wasn’t about what he would have wanted; it was about what didn’t even matter, because she knew she’d never feel it again. 

Or so she’d thought. 

Her tears had washed away any last trace of guilt over the long night. She closed her eyes and relived every moment of the London Eye, every brush of a hand or thumb, every kiss-- _every kiss, the heat of his hand on her face, the intensity in how his mouth opened over hers_ \--until her heartbeat was going nearly as fast as it had been before she saw the snow. 

Her phone buzzed. Mum.

_Fry-up, come and eat with us._

_Starving, actually. Be there within the hour, ok?_

She got out of bed and went to sit at her desk and examine the letter she’d started to the Doctor. She pulled out a new page. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“It’s me!” Rose called, pulling off her things at Jackie’s coat tree. Susan rushed over and slammed into her with a hug. 

“Hello, my baby.” She kissed her head. “Did you have a good time?”

“I got to do the eggs,” Susan said into Rose’s jumper and continued to cling while Rose walked them into the kitchen. 

“Mm, good job, let’s go get some.” 

“Everything’s ok?” Susan’s voice quavered and Rose and pulled her onto her lap. 

Jackie set a plate in front of Rose. “She heard you on the phone. I talked to her, but you probably want to too.” 

“You know how we talk about it’s okay to have a bad day sometimes? I--started missing Daddy and got sad and needed to have a good cry. ‘M so sorry, I thought you’d have more fun with Gran.”

“I did. I just thought...you were better now?” 

“Oh, darling. I am better, I really am! But sometimes we’ll still have sad moments; maybe you will too." 

“I know.” 

“And it’s okay to cry. Or not, whatever you need to do.” 

Susan nodded.

“Run along, sweetheart, and read your book,” Jackie patted Susan’s back. “I wanna talk to your mum.” 

Susan nodded and wrinkled her nose while Rose kissed her forehead, but she was smiling when she left. 

Jackie gave Rose a cuppa and sat with her own. Rose ate heartily, mumbling “thanks, Mum,” and Jackie gave her a minute. “It was the snow, of all things,” Rose told her. “Because of what happened the last time it snowed. Silly...” 

Jackie smiled understandingly. “Not silly. I know.”

“But I wanna tell you something.” Rose leaned forward on her arms. “I don’t know if anything’s going to come of it, because I just met him, but I have feelings for…John.”

“I saw the pair of you last night; that’s pretty obvious.”

“And I felt all jumbled up last night with memories of James. ‘Cause I--never thought it would be like that… But ‘m okay now. Listen, Mum, this might seem, I dunno, weird after what happened with Mickey, and I know you felt strongly about him, so maybe you don’t want to see me with someone else--”

“No, I’m sorry,” Jackie reached over to take her hand. “I just love the both of you so much that I had some wishful thinking. But I see it now--what you were trying to tell me. What I want most in this world is for you to be happy and loved.”

“Thank you, Mum.”

“I don’t know this man, John, but I saw how he was lookin’ at you.”

“Really?” 

“Oh, and now look at that smile! Yes, really, and next thing I know, off you’re going on the ride by yourselves. You said he didn’t do anything wrong--”

“No, it was all me, and I may have bolloxed the whole thing. He kissed me and we were talking about going for a drink and then I ran away from him and I don’t even have his number--”

“Did he now? Well, then I don’t think he’ll scare away so easily.”

“I guess I’ll know if he doesn’t show up at the open mic tonight. Ah, I need to practice!” 

“You’ve got plenty of time today. Why don’t you relax here for a while.” Jackie scooped more food into Rose’s plate. “You can sing or nap or whatever you want to do, and go home and change later.” 

“Yeah? Yeah, sounds nice! Thank you, Mum. I need to talk to Mickey at some point too.”

“Don’t you worry about him, either. I have a feeling everything’s gonna work out okay.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John lingered at the breakfast table with Jack and Ianto after the kids had gone. “So there’s my story. Am I hopeless?”

“I don’t think so,” Ianto said. “You said she was smiling and happy until you walked outside.”

“Yes, she was...enthusiastic.”

Jack laughed heartily. “Excellent. How long have we been waiting for something like this with you?”

John couldn’t help smiling too. “But then the snow--she said it snowed four years ago, and then started crying. It’s got to be about her husband.”

“Sounds like it,” Ianto said.

“I know too well how those moments can hit suddenly. I just wish I could have called her. Well, probably for the best, she might not have wanted to hear from me right then.”

“So you did right, gave her some space, and didn’t chase her,” Jack said. “Maybe she would have called by now too if she could.” 

“Should I still go to this thing tonight?” 

“ _Susan_ invited you, right? And you don’t want to disappoint her? Besides, that should go a long way with Rose.” 

Polly walked in. “I can’t find my scissors and Ben won’t let me use his.”

“Ben!” Jack yelled.

“Next to the microwave,” Ianto told her.

John continued. “There’s also her _boyfriend_ …” He couldn’t help but put a scornful edge into the word. 

“All’s fair in love and war.” Ianto sipped his tea. 

“But she might feel bad about what happened. I might be the ‘other man’ if she wants to be with him.”

“We don’t even know how serious _that_ is.” Jack rocked in his chair. 

“They only went on one date,” Polly piped up from across the room. All three adults stopped and looked at her. She shrugged. “S’what Susan said. They used to be boyfriend and girlfriend a long time ago and officially went on a date this week.” 

“What else did she say?” John asked, after a few seconds of silence, and pulled on his ear. “I mean--nevermind.”

“We thought you might like each other if you spent more time together, and then we could see each other all the time, so…”

“So we magically all found each other at the Eye. Nice work, kid.” Jack winked and turned to John. “Well, there you go! One date.”

“Though, he’s also her ex-lover and best friend of who knows how many years,” Ianto said.

Jack laughed. “Whose side are you on?” 

“John’s, obviously. Just laying out all the facts.”

“Anyway, we can speculate, but you won’t know until you talk to her and clear the air. She obviously likes you--can’t imagine it would have changed much since last night.” 

“She’ll be working.” 

“And we’ll all be there together,” Ianto said. “If she doesn’t seem ‘enthusiastic’ anymore, you can have a nice night and say goodbye and that will be that.” 

“Have you decided what to read?” Jack asked.

“I have an idea. Maybe it’s crazy, but what if I read a confession, of sorts? Confessional essay? After the book selection. About why I became the Doctor.” 

“Bold move!” Jack said, then stood and called out to Martha, who had walked into the kitchen, a little bleary-eyed. “There she is, voice of a nightingale! So, judging by how late you came in, you had a very good night last night, hmm?” 

“It wasn’t like that!” Martha protested with a laugh. 

“Her text, and I quote, ‘met someone, don’t wait up’.” He brought her a mug. 

“We walked around the city for hours and ended up in an all-night diner.” Martha sat and fixed her tea, with a bit of a dreamy smile. 

“Ah, love is in the air, Yan! I like to think it’s the good vibes we’re putting out.” Jack smooched Ianto’s cheek and sat down again. 

John snorted. “Can I skip to the part where I actually know what’s going on?”

“But this is the fun part! For us, anyway.” 

“Martha, how about you take the hot seat for a bit, tell us about your mystery man?” John asked.

“Not yet--don’t wanna jinx it.” She paused, and a bright smile lit up her face. “Let me see if I hear from him today.” 

“Well, if you don’t make plans, you’re welcome to join us again tonight,” Ianto said. “When do you have to be back at work?” 

“Tomorrow, sorry to say, so I’ve got to get the train soon. The Christmas shift begins! Let’s hope it’s a peaceful one.”

“I’ll drink to that!” John held up his mug. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

John took a deep breath as he followed Jack, Ianto, Ben, and Polly into the Bad Wolf. The place was decked out in colorful fairy lights that gave a warm holiday glow to the nighttime lighting. The tables weren’t all full yet and they made their way toward an empty one in the back after Susan, sitting with her grandparents, waved them over. 

They were settling and hanging coats on the wall rack behind them when Rose came out of the kitchen, fanning her face. She gave a small wave with a smile, and he nearly collapsed into the chair in relief. As she moved around the room, greeting people, she paused to talk to a uniformed postman he recognized by the reindeer antlers on the table in front of him. When she leaned near his ear to say something, the postman looked in John’s direction, whereupon John--feeling caught out for staring--quickly turned his head to study the menu board. 

Rose headed their way and he rose to meet her. She was radiant in a long wine-colored sweater dress and a dark lipstick he immediately thought about mussing.

“You look beautiful!” 

“I owe you an apology!” she said at the same time.

“Oh, not at all!”

“Well, thank you--thank you for coming!” She smiled, but tilted her head toward the small stage set up near the front window. “I have to get started. Tell everyone else thanks for me too!” 

“Right! Oh, one thing--Ben!” He waved Ben over. 

“Mrs. Foreman, is it too late to be on the list? I have a poem to read.” 

“Darling, that’s wonderful! No, not too late. How about number four?” 

He beamed. “Great! Thank you, ma’am!”

John mouthed _thank you_ and Rose winked and went to the microphone. 

“Thanks, Uncle John.” Ben refolded his unfolded paper for at least the fourth time. 

“Breathe, lad. You’re gonna do great.” 

He made his way back to his own seat at the end of their table. 

Rose stepped to the microphone. “Welcome, everyone, to the Bad Wolf Cafe’s _first_ annual Christmas open mic night! To begin our evening, we have a song from our very own Bill Potts!” 

She’d made a great choice for the first singer, who did a crowd-pleasing rendition of “All I Want for Christmas is You.” By the time she was done, the energy in the room flowed and each table seemed to have a representative go up to give it their all. Rose beamed proudly from her laptop at a small round table where she played music. At Ben’s turn, their whole group clapped and cheered for him, including Susan and her grandparents. 

Before too long, Susan excitedly told the other kids, “Here she goes! Clara’s coming to do the music.” 

The two women changed places and Rose took the mic. “Time to put my money where my mouth is, eh?” John applauded enthusiastically along with everyone and he chuckled when he heard Jackie whoop.

Rose took a deep breath as the music started. 

_You're here, that moment's near, I'm almost in your arms_

John was gobsmacked. Sam Cooke--he’d enthused about Sam Cooke and this particular song while they were recommending music to each other in their letters. And now she sang it. 

_One sigh, one word and I will rush to your embrace_

Her voice was earthy and when she dropped into a lower register his stomach tightened. She smiled playfully at the audience and rocked with the jazzy swing. 

_It's strange, how we are changed by things that seem so small one look can write a book, one touch can say it all_

He watched her dress swirl around her legs and the heels of her boots rise and fall with the beat, as her voice washed over him, mesmerizing. He watched her face, hoping she’d give him that smile, so he could feel like the words were his, but she never quite caught his eye. When the song was done and she took a bow with a delighted grin, he stuffed the impulse to stand and yell, maybe go over there and tell her how amazing she was. 

Susan dragged a chair next to him. “I have a new drawing,” she said, as the crowd murmured during the change to the next performer. 

“Fantastic, let’s have a look,” he whispered loudly. 

She set her paper in front of him with a mixture of pride and shyness he related to all too well. 

“Susan, this is...impressive.” The figures in her scene were noticeably better than her previous drawings. The Grandfather and his companions lay in a circle next to the TARDIS with an expansive sky above them.

Susan beamed. “I’ve been practicing a lot.”

“It shows! I see you’ve drawn in the constellations,” he said, tracing the light lines with his finger. “Orion, Little Bear, and this is Pegasus--oh, this is home.” 

“Yes, it’s our stargazing spot. I had to look those up, though, I didn’t know them by heart.” 

“Oh, that’s quite all right. I look up references all the time.” 

“Mummy said we can go there again for Christmas Eve like we used to.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” 

The next speaker began and he looked over his notes again. The prologue for his still-untitled sequel was in hand, and another paper with a handwritten essay. He read it over, once again doubting if he should make the move. He imagined a movie-perfect ending: _he reads the words that reveal his identity, Rose rushes into his arms, he dips and kisses her_. He shook his head and scoffed at himself. Or she could be angry and throw him out. Or...something in between. He’d hoped to have seen enough reassurance in her eyes by the time he got up to read, but it hadn’t happened yet. He placed the page behind his prologue. When the moment came, he would look at her and decide. 

And here it was. Rose stood at the microphone again and finally smiled straight at him. “We have a special guest here tonight! John Smith, author of _Journal of Impossible Things_ , is on tour in the city right now, and is going to read for us.”

He watched her on his way up, how she smiled and led the applause. _Still not sure_. He tried to hold her eyes, but they slid past him out across the crowd. _Was that...professional? Well, you’re on stage too_. He put on his glasses, and his game face. 

“I wanted to do something special, just for my fellow open mic patrons here at The Bad Wolf Cafe tonight, so I’ll be reading the prologue to the unnamed sequel to _Journal of Impossible Things_.” 

His own table cheered the loudest, and he began to read. “ _You can’t rewrite history, not one line!_ ” 

The words, familiar at this point, flowed through him, though he kept Rose in his peripheral awareness. She sat with hands clasped on her knees and watched him, so like the first time he saw her, and yet everything had changed. Now he _knew_ her, knew her well and barely knew her, simultaneously, and the ache of that in between space had to end. He decided. 

He was vaguely aware of the doors chiming above him and the man who rushed in and crossed to Rose’s table. His words continued while the man knelt next to her chair and began speaking earnestly. Mickey. He could hear the new voice floating across the room and Rose’s “shh.” Mickey leaned into her ear. John read his last paragraph and saw Mickey’s arm reach into his jacket pocket. He tried not to watch, only glanced back to see Rose’s mouth open in surprise, then form the word “Mickey.” 

John flipped the page to his confession, but let his hand with the papers fall to his side. “Thank you,” he said into the mic. A bit of hum began at Rose’s table as Clara made her way over and a few patrons leaned in to ask what was going on. In a fog of disappointment and the cold smack of reality, he returned to his spot. This was her real life and he was the intruder. He thought back over how she acted tonight and how he must have looked, gaping at her like a bloody fool. Jack looked at him questioningly, but he took his coat from the hook. “Gotta get some air.” 

He laid the prologue on the table and folded the other page into a small square. The rest of his group was chatting, seemingly unaware of what was happening up front, except for Susan, who stood in the aisle and looked confusedly back and forth from him to her mother and Mickey. More people took advantage of the break in the action to move, and John skirted them and slipped out the front door. 

He scrubbed his face in the night air. It was time. Time to shake this off and move on. He started to reopen the essay, but couldn’t bear to look. He heard chimes. 

“John!” It was Susan--out without a coat. 

“Hey, now, what are you doing?” 

“Why are you leaving?”

“Well, my cottage is lonely. And I’ve got a sequel to write, don’t I?” 

“But it’s almost Christmas.” 

“Tell you what, as soon as the book comes out, I’m going to send you the first one. If you promise to draw me a scene.” 

“Okay.” Her voice broke. 

“Poor thing, you’re shaking--”

The door opened again and Bill emerged. “Susan, get back inside!” She tilted her head at John. “You all right, mate?” 

He waved. “Never better. Will you, uh, would you mind tellin’ my friends I’m going home?” 

“Yeah, all right.”

“Take care, Susan.” 

He turned and jogged in the direction of the carpark where he’d left his car. He didn’t get far before footsteps caught up with his own. 

“You can run away, but I’m going with you. For a maximum of, oh, eight hours.”

John slowed to a walk next to Jack. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No problem. Let’s just drive.” 

 

And they did. After at least an hour of companionable silence, during which Jack only occasionally texted, John sighed. “Fine. I guess I’m not actually going home yet.”

“Coming up on Bletchley, I see. Have you been here at all?”

“No.” 

“Maybe we should visit her together.”

There was a pop and steam poured from the engine. John cursed and pulled the car over. 

“Well.” Jack said after a long moment. “How about now?”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Rose finished her song: “ _I’m almost in your arms, almost in your arms, to stay!”_

She was floating on cloud nine--she’d never sung it this well before. When it came time to choose her song, this one came to mind naturally, and though she’d been tempted by a sultrier Sophia Loren version, it was Susan who wanted her to to sing it like she’d been singing it around the house. 

She bowed and waved lightly. “Thank you all so much!” Clara mouthed “wow” at her as she zipped back to the counter, and Rose grinned and called the next speaker before returning to her small table. She checked on Susan and saw she was showing John another drawing. _Bless him for being so indulgent_.

Amazingly, she’d managed to do the whole song with John’s eyes seeming to burn through her from across the room. Her pulse had jumped and she’d looked away, not wanting to lose her place, but as she sang about rushing to an embrace, the song felt...unexpectedly intimate. 

She tried to concentrate on listening and supporting the current speaker, and only occasionally glance back at John, but in the afterglow of her own performance, she let her mind wander a bit. Imagined herself going back to the restroom hallway. What if he followed her, what if he pressed her to the wall, what if he tilted her chin up--

Applause snapped her out of it and she carried on with her job and did her best to keep her thoughts in check until it was time to announce John. He stood and nodded to everyone with that already familiar warm, closed-mouth smile, and walked to the mic. 

_Get a grip_ , she told herself, because even his purposeful walk made her catch her breath. Concentrate now, talk later. She sat down as he announced the reading from the prologue, and exchanged excited looks with Susan, who had stood for a better view and now hopped a little in delight. John had his glasses on again, like the first time she saw him, reading then as now. 

She didn’t notice Mickey coming in, until he was there, breathless, kneeling next to her chair. “Sorry I’m late--ran all the way from the train.”

“Shh.” She indicated the stage. “No problem, it’s going great--what?” His face had quirked oddly.

He leaned into her ear. “I’m just gonna say this ok? Been practicing all day.” He waited for her slight nod to continue. “I’ve had...an interesting couple of days and realized some things. I know you don’t look at me the way I’ve always wanted you to, because I’ve met someone who does--”

“Oh, Mick...” she murmured.

“No, it’s ok! I get it now. Look, I’ve loved you for half my life and I always will. You’re my best friend.” He squeezed her hand. “And I got something for you and Susan--before--but I want you to have it anyway, with no strings. No misunderstandings.”

He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and she took it. “What did you do?”

“Got a big fat signing bonus is what I did!” He winked. “And this is Barcelona. Because you and Susan need to take your trip and see everything you’ve wanted to see for all these years. You deserve it and she deserves it.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. But thank you! And you’re wonderful, and let’s talk about this after the show. I need to--” The show! Which she’d momentarily forgotten--

John was off the stage and people were talking and Clara appeared. “Hey.” She looked back and forth between them. “Are you having a moment here?” 

“Lemme find an extra chair,” Mickey said, and stepped away. 

“A little! But everything’s fine. Better than fine! Now, let’s get this thing back on track.” She stood up and took in the state of the room. 

“I’ve got the next number!” another patron stepped to the mic. Bill was talking to Jack while he whipped on his long coat and headed for the door, but she didn’t see John anywhere. 

“Ok, George, you’re on!” She clicked on the music for the last song of the night. 

Clara leaned on the brick wall next to her. “Um, I think you’d want to know--John left after his reading.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open, but before she could react, Susan was in front of her. She handed Rose a folded piece of paper and said, “John Smith is the Doctor!” 

_TBC_

Bonus Features:  
[Almost In Your Arms by Sam Cooke ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL2WVDlGyYk)  
[Billie singing live](https://youtu.be/fX8iYrpb3OU?t=1m58s)  
[Rose’s dress looks like this](https://target.scene7.com/is/image/Target/52726767?wid=3000&qlt=70&fmt=pjpeg) except burgundy ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This completes the main story - epilogue to follow!

Rose stared at Susan, who bounced on her toes with a delighted grin, and at Clara’s wide eyes, and then around at her store. The fairy lights bloomed in her vision and she heard George’s voice singing and a lot of the crowd singing along: “ _so here it is, Merry Christmas, everybody’s having fun_ ” as if from a distance. 

She clutched the still-folded paper in her hands--a precious thing--and opened it enough to skim over _his_ handwriting, and the scrawled _John_ at the bottom. She closed her eyes, and blew out a long breath. _Real_. What exactly this was she didn’t know yet, and she wanted to find out when not surrounded by people. 

He’s the Doctor. The Doctor, lover of muppets and Charles Dickens and Sam Cooke--Sam Cooke! She’d just sung his own favorite song to him. The Doctor, _medical officer, the kind of doctor who takes care of soldiers_...how could she not have seen? Except maybe she did, in that place inside her that made her kiss him on the Eye. What did he say right before? _“Actually...”_ She’d said she felt like she knew him already--before they were lost in a feverish haze of kissing and touching which made her shudder all over again to think of now.

The man she still wanted to write to every night had been right here. She pulled Susan to her, a little too tightly, glad for somewhere to go with her hands and roiling emotions, and tuned in to the music again. 

“ _Are you hanging up your stocking on the wall?_ ” She smiled encouragingly and rocked back and forth, singing along until the raucous applause at the end of the song. Susan looked at her, smiling but looking a bit confused, and she leaned down and kissed her forehead. “It’s all gonna be ok, baby! Hang on!” 

She took the mic, amazed that in spite of the surreal aura surrounding her, she could fall into her role. “Thank you so much for coming, everyone! This has been so much fun, and thanks especially to each of you who participated! You made this go so well, even beyond my hopes! We’ll do it again in a few months!” In the noise that followed, she whisked Susan into the kitchen. 

Clara followed, laughing. “He’s the _Doctor_ , of course he is, of course! This means he came looking for you! Amazing!”

Rose started laughing too, to the point of rising hysteria, raising the paper to rest against her lips, and happy tears sprang to her eyes. “The Aztecs!” 

“What?” Clara said. 

“It should have been my big clue! And I kinda think he would have told me, but then Mickey was there and I ran off all embarrassed. The cocoa, remember?” 

“Sort of?” 

“When I joked around about proposing to him and--oh, I’m ridiculous, this is all so--” She put a hand on Susan’s face. “Did he give this to you? What did he say?” 

“He said he had to go home and write the next book. He watched you and Uncle Mickey and then he went outside, so I went to see. And when he ran off I found the paper on the ground.” 

“Well, Mickey looked like he was proposing to you,” Clara said, and Rose stopped, shocked. 

“What? No, he was--oh, my God.” 

“That’s why I came over. Thought you might need an exit.”

“No, no, he just--had a gift for me and Susan.”

“I didn’t know what was happening,” Susan said. “He looked like Mr. Davies when he asked Miss Taylor to marry him in music class. But you told me you didn’t want to be his girlfriend!” 

“Oh, no, I didn’t.” She laughed again, “It’s because there wasn’t an extra chair! And John left?” 

“Well, he probably thinks you’re engaged now.” 

Bill popped through the door. “Susan, your friends had to leave. Babysitter.” 

“Oh, no, Mum!” Susan cried and looked to Rose. 

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll see them again. Now go sit with Gran and Howard until we’re done!” Rose tucked the paper into her dress, next to her heart, and went out to say goodnight to the people filtering out of the cafe. 

“Oh, Wilf!” she called. He zipped his red coat on the way to the door, and she hugged him. “I’m so glad you came. So, this is a bit weird, but about the letter I gave you, turns out there isn’t any rush anymore.” 

He patted her back. “Well, my dear, it’s already on the way. Call it a Christmas miracle.” He saluted as he left. 

Rose packed her laptop and the minimal sound equipment, mind spinning from letters to moments spent with John, the misses and the chances and the way he looked at her. She couldn’t stop smiling. 

Clara and Bill came to check in, and she was amazed to find the dining room spotless already. “You’re too fast, the pair of you! This went amazingly, thank you so much! You can go home. Mum and I will finish up in the kitchen.”

“Never mind the kitchen; are you okay?” Clara asked. 

“You look awfully happy considering the man just ran away from you,” Bill added. “Literally. Ran down the street.”

“I know, it’s mental, but the thing is...turns out, I _know_ him so much better than I thought! He’s been through a lot--has trouble seeing the good when it happens. He told me that himself! I even know he loves running!” She broke into helpless giggles.

Clara looked at Bill, who shrugged, then back at Rose. “What are you going to do?” 

“Tonight...I’m closing up and taking my daughter home because we have plans for Christmas Eve and we’re keeping them. And I’ll find him later and explain everything. Or he’ll get my last letter once he’s five bloody hours away. And we’ll have a laugh and then...who knows?”

“Your last letter?” 

“Yes, the letter that’s on the way to the _Doctor_ explaining I might be falling in love with _John_!” 

“You didn’t!” Bill stopped in the middle of untying her apron.

“Oh, yes, I did!” 

All three of them were laughing when Mickey walked up, draining the last of his mug. “You ready to hear my story?” 

“I’ve got one for you too! What a week this has been.” Rose slung an arm around his back. 

“Yeah, tell me about it.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack and John sat in the silence after the sputtering car stilled. John cursed and tried the ignition. 

“Well, what’s that you say? This car always takes you where you need to go?” Jack dialed a number. “Doris! It’s Jack Harkness, how are you on this lovely evening?”

John popped the bonnet and took a flashlight from under his seat. He had a feeling he knew what was wrong--should’ve fixed it but he’d been...distracted lately. He rubbed the blue paint soothingly. “My fault,” he muttered, and opened up and took a long look at the belts and hoses. 

Jack appeared, shoulders raised against the wind. “Mrs. Brig would be delighted to have us. I called a tow truck--only five miles and she said there’s a garage in the neighborhood.”

“I can fix it. Don’t want some stranger getting their hands on her. My toolbox is in the boot--”

“Doctor, it’s dark and we’re on the side of the road. Even _you_ need to see what you’re doing. Come on, let’s wait inside.” 

John hadn’t seen the Brigadier’s house since the weekend of his funeral, and turning onto the road made his heart ache. Jack exhaled loudly and met his eyes. He understood. 

Doris Lethbridge-Stewart, white-haired and charming, was as welcoming as he remembered, and brushed off John’s apologies for not visiting sooner. “You boys have busy lives. I’m just happy the stars aligned for us to see each other again.” 

They sat around the table catching up on each other’s current lives. Jack told a story about the twins that had Doris wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. She spoke enthusiastically of her own grandchildren, and John’s eyes fell on a picture of the Brig and Doris surrounded by their entire family, soon before his passing. He’d had an enviable life. 

When he saw Doris following his gaze, John said, “I want you to know I think of him often. Think about what he’d say to me, advice he’d give.” 

“Thank you, dear. That means a lot to me. You know he loved all his people, but the pair of you were special to him. Oh, he told me stories!”

“Ha! I’m almost afraid to ask,” Jack said. “Let’s have a toast, shall we? To the Brig!” 

They toasted, and Doris said, “John, now tell me if you have someone special in your life. Surely you do.”

“Oh, it’s--there’s--” A vision of Rose floated in front of his eyes. “Let me show you what a foolish man I am, Doris. I was going to read this tonight in a brazen attempt at wooing a lady.” He reached into his pocket for his confession and pulled out--a letter. In a stamped envelope addressed to Christmas Ink. Rose’s handwriting. 

“What in the blazes…?”

He stared at the both of them in utter confusion. It was as if an actual Christmas elf had performed some kind of magic in his pocket. He emptied all his pockets and found nothing else. 

“Jack?” He showed him the letter. “How...?”

“Well, open it!” 

“The postman! With the antlers. Remember? He walked right by us. Did he deliver a letter into my pocket? How could he know?”

“Mailmen. I bet they know all kinds of things.” 

“What is it?” Doris asked eagerly. 

“Hoo, boy,” said Jack. “Have I got a story for you!” 

John let Jack’s voice fade to the background while he read.

> Dear Doctor,
> 
> Been a little while since my last letter. I can’t think of what to say, other than I had some confused feelings...

Her first page ended with no signature

> I just got home and really wanted to talk to you. 

His heart hammered as he turned the page. He continued reading to the end while Jack elaborated for Doris, not worrying about the need to jump in and defend himself from Jack’s characterization. Not when the words he was reading were as life-changing as this. 

He finished the pages, and read again for confirmation. When he tuned back in, Jack was saying, “And he thinks the guy was proposing to her and he had to get out of there or make a fool of himself, but I don’t buy it. The vibe wasn’t like that.” 

John waved the letter. “You’re right.”

They both turned to him expectantly. Doris tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear. “Well?” 

“She didn’t want to be with him.” 

He didn’t read it all, wouldn’t, not to anyone else. But he read them a few sentences, until Jack was grinning broadly and Doris’s eyes were shining. 

She laid a smooth hand over his, ever so gently. “John. You have to go to her!” 

“Yeah?” He said, looking at the two of them. “Yeah! I have to find her!” He leapt to his feet. 

“Hell yeah!” Jack said, and poured another drink. “But slow your roll, we’re stuck, remember?” 

“Well, I’ll get up at first light and fix the car.” 

“Borrow anything you need from the shed. Alistair had things I don’t even know what they do, but they’re still there.” 

John flopped into the chair. “I could call her at the cafe tomorrow?” 

“No, no,” Doris said. “You ran out of there, so run back! After what she wrote about you? You have to find her and tell her.”

“Thank you.” He touched her shoulder. “So much, for everything. It’s been wonderful to see you again.”

Doris grinned and waved a hand at her face. “You too! Ah, this is so romantic! Please promise me you’ll tell me what happens?”

“I will!” Jack said heartily, and dropped his glass on the table. “Time for bed, I think!” 

“I’ve pulled out jimjams that should fit you. I’ve got you in the boys’ room and some extra toiletries in the hall bath.” 

“You’re a gem.” Jack kissed her forehead on the way out of the kitchen.

 

Jack fell asleep quickly in one twin bed, not without some ribbing about how John ran off so fast he left all his luggage behind in London. (“Hope you don’t need a phone charger or something.” Which was a good point--lucky his car had one.) 

He slipped into the sheets of the other bed in his borrowed jimjams, a dark blue satin set that felt great on his skin. Between being reminded of the Brig wherever he turned, the small bed, and Jack’s light snores, it was starting to throw him back to years ago. Jack always could fall asleep and wake up at a moment’s notice. John was the one who stared at ceilings, or sometimes the top of a tent, or woke from nightmares. 

But now he had a cure for nighttime blues. He put his glasses on and rested on the pillows to read Rose’s letter again. 

> Dear Doctor, 
> 
> Sorry about that ending. I’m gonna leave it and start over here. It’s been a whirlwind since then, but I’ve realized some things and here I am once again with you the one I want to share it with. 
> 
> So, that sort of - being alive - that I was talking about. It started for real last night with someone else I met. We’d had moments before, but I didn’t think anything would come of it. On the London Eye, of all places, it happened, this fire I didn’t know I still had. But I do. And he felt it; we both felt it. 
> 
> And then, well, our old nemesis grief came crashing over me. And guilt and fear, never far behind. I got so scared of feeling like I was feeling, as strongly as I was feeling it, and I had to run. And I spent half the night crying, my arms aching for the one I lost in a way I haven’t for a while, because I had made myself go numb. 
> 
> Well, I’m not numb anymore. I want to feel. I want to live again and be in love again. And I want to try with this man. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I just met him and I hardly know him, but something about him is right and real and true. 
> 
> I started believing when I started writing to you. And I know you’re not magic, but my daughter’s wish came true and now I’m hoping for one more for me. Saying it to you is my way of putting it out into the universe.
> 
> Love, 
> 
> Rose (That’s my name. Seems right to tell you now.) 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Rose crawled into her bed after Susan was asleep, exhaustion setting in after all the work and emotions of the day. Finally, her peace and quiet and privacy to read John’s words to herself. After a moment’s thought, she got up and retrieved a few of her favorite letters from the Doctor as well. 

Despite the calm that had settled over her ever since Susan revealed the truth, she now admitted to herself she’d been hoping he would realize he made a mistake and come back. She’d closed out the register while glancing at the windows, as if there was a chance, a small one, his face might appear. 

Now that she admitted it to herself, doubt and fear crowded out anticipation. She leaned on her pillows and rolled her fingers around the stained and wrinkled page and the folded edges, and decided to let it simmer a little longer. She opened the previous letters. Now, hearing his own northern accent wax on about newspaper ink and vinyl and where to find the perfect writing pen--she laughed out loud. It just...fit. 

_Loss is universal in a sense and yet terribly specific. Things happened, very bad things, before I left, that may have changed me forever._ She could picture his face and the casual way he might say it, while his eyes left so much untold. Would he share the rest with her now? Maybe they were supposed to be there for each other. She turned to a happier one: _“squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, old sinner!”_ and imagined him on her stage reading A Christmas Carol. 

She refolded those letters and set them aside. Whatever was left to find out here, it would be okay. 

> I have a little story I want to tell you tonight. A confession of sorts. There was a man who needed to write but his brain wouldn’t let him in the usual way. So he went to work as a writing elf answering letters for Father Christmas. 
> 
> Writing to children across the land made the new elf so happy, but he never imagined one day he would write a letter to a very special girl and her very special mother.

She wiped tears from her eyes already. 

> And so he came to the little shop. And time and time again, he tried to tell her, “It’s me! I’m your elf!” But every time, he failed. Until one night, he got the chance to sing her his story. 

She finished reading and hugged the page to her heart. How long until they found each other again? If his Christmas Ink letters went to his home...she didn’t want to doubt Wilf’s promise of a Christmas miracle, but it probably wouldn’t be delivered until after Boxing Day. She hadn’t thought until this very moment that if he was actually going home like Susan thought, it meant he’d changed his mind about spending Christmas with his friends. 

“You silly man,” she said to the letters, “you didn’t have to do that.” _This is a hard month for me, usually, because of things that have happened._

She understood, all too well. But _this_ December…

What will be will be, she decided. For tonight, she turned off the light and sank into her new memories until she fell asleep. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_~December 24~_

John closed the bonnet of his beloved car and swiped off his fingermarks. The engine cranked easily. “We’re back in business, old girl!” 

He washed up while Jack said his goodbyes to Doris. “You have been a lifesaver!” 

“I was delighted to have you!” She hugged John as he went to the door and then gave him a serious look. “Now, don’t be a stranger. If all goes well, I want to meet this young lady.” 

“I really hope you will.” 

Unfortunately, driving into London during morning traffic was maddeningly slow. They passed the time telling “remember when” stories about the Brig and the old gang. John laughed until he had tears in his eyes at Jack’s impressions, though at any lull, he started to brood about Rose and get nervous again. 

“Breathe!” Jack said, checking his phone. “Ok, we are under the wire for getting me home before I start to have domestic issues.”

“I owe him, taking you away from the kids overnight.”

“Hey, it was an accident; what can you do? Other than cook dinner for the rest of the week. And babysit.”

John laughed. “Done and done.” He pulled up in front of Jack’s townhouse, double-parked. “Wait, I have to get something!” 

He followed Jack in and ran to his room, waving at kids while they shouted “Daddy!” and grabbed the letter he’d forgotten that morning. Two days and eons ago. He put it next to Rose’s letter in his inside pocket. 

Jack and Ianto waited by the door, arm in arm. “Bye,” Jack called, and Ianto added, “Have fun storming the castle!” 

“Glad to be an amusement to you!” 

After finding a parking spot, John ran to the Bad Wolf and stopped short at the sign: Closing at 13:00 on Christmas Eve, reopening December 27th.

“Bollocks,” he whispered to the door, and tried it anyway. Locked, and the lights were off. He checked his watch: 13:45. He banged anyway, thinking maybe she or someone else might still be in the back, but there was no response, and after a few strange looks from passersby he walked off. 

Well, that was a shocker. He’d practiced his speech, complete with movements, all the way here. After a moment’s consideration, he took out her letter and looked at the return address. Four blocks. 

He ran.

The building had a security buzzer. He waited for a minute to stop panting and dialed her number. No response. He allowed himself one more try. 

After the same result, he went to a nearby bench and sat to think, double-checking the letters in his pocket. He could wait here. They could be back any time. Or they could be spending Christmas with her mother or who knows where, and he’d be sitting here like a stalker in the cold on Christmas Eve. At least it wasn’t too cold, had warmed up after the snow the other night--

Christmas Eve. 

Susan said it--stargazing for Christmas Eve. _Like they used to._ There were pictures on the wall. Rose had said where. _Think_. After another minute he broke into a grin and ran for his car.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Rose and Susan’s Christmas Eve had been lovely. They’d shopped a bit before getting on the train to Morden Hall Park. 

Now the sun was dropping while they walked through the park to find their traditional spot. Rose carried the telescope case and Susan wore a backpack with blankets and other necessities. 

They got settled while Susan chatted happily about the constellations she was planning to locate. Rose took in the familiarity of this spot. She’d been afraid of it, afraid memories would hit her too hard, and she wouldn’t be able to do it on her own. But there was nothing but peace. 

“New beginnings,” she said to herself. She opened the case and began setting up. 

“Mummy, look,” Susan said, “somebody’s coming.” 

“Yeah, probably.” She peered through the eyepiece, making adjustments. “We won’t be the only ones wanting to enjoy the park on Christmas Eve.” 

“Mummy!”

Rose stood. The first thing she noticed was something about the gait of the man striding toward them, then the leather jacket, then his face. She froze. 

“He found us!” Susan exclaimed. 

Rose exhaled. “Oh.” 

“I told him we were stargazing today!” 

John waved, and started jogging toward them. He was still several paces away when he called out, “Rose! Susan! I’m the Doctor!”

“We know!” Susan called back. Rose stood with her mouth open. 

He stopped short in front of her, breathing hard, and quirked a funny smile. “Didn’t want to take any more chances of messing it up. Is that all right?” 

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He shifted on his feet. “I got your letter.”

“I have yours too. Well, Susan found it after you...left.” That surreal aura was back. 

“I’m so sorry! I--I thought, well, I thought wrong and I didn’t ask.”

She stood, arms crossed for a long moment, and touched her tongue to her teeth and grinned at him. “I ran away from you too. Maybe we can agree to try something different now?” 

Visibly relaxing, he matched her smile. “Fantastic.” He held out his hand. 

She laughed out loud and flew into his arms instead, winding her own arms around his neck as he lifted her for a moment, then set her back on her feet. Her cheek brushed his and he whispered into her ear, “I really want to kiss you again.” 

“You’ll get the chance,” she murmured back, and winked. 

“Me too! Me too!” Susan called and John bent low and gathered her in a bear hug. 

He was by her side now, but talking to Susan, and she could hardly think. He was here. _Here_. And where they would go from here, she couldn’t imagine yet. He reached out his hand and she took it, and he gripped her with the coiled strength she’d spent the previous night fantasizing about. Her breath stuttered for a moment and she was sure his hand twitched. 

“Blanket!” She reluctantly let him go and took out the blanket to lay behind the telescope. John adjusted the tripod. The sun had fully set and the sky was blessedly cloudless. 

He looked at the sky. “A bit of light here, but for the city, this is good! And the telescope gives you a big advantage. I can see some constellations already.” 

“You want to help her? I’m hopeless with picking them out of the sky.”

“Of course!” He got on his knees and looked through the lens to do some more pointing. “Got a good starting place here, Susan, come on.” 

Rose knelt beside them and watched him pointing and winding up in his talk about stars, and Susan showing off how much she’d learned from studying her star charts. At one point, he retucked Susan’s scarf, muttering about the cold, and she wanted to cry. 

John’s hand slipped back into hers at every possible moment, and they all ended up laughing at times and taking turns at the telescope. When her own toes got numb, she decided Susan had been out in the cold long enough and announced it was time to pack up. 

 

She had happily accepted his offer to drive them home, but now wondered how she was going to survive this trip. He drove steadily--seemed to know the city well--but when the road allowed, he reached across and dragged his fingertips over her hand. She couldn’t decide whether to close her eyes or watch his fingers, and she tried to respond in appropriate places to Susan’s chatter about Christmas presents. 

John got on a straight stretch of road and, without looking at her, turned her hand over and began to trace the lines in her palm. She watched his profile, and he had to have heard her intake of breath, because the corners of his lips turned up. When his fingers started moving featherlight up her wrist, she decided to take revenge. 

She sighed and stretched a little, pulling her hand away from him, and caught him casting a worried eye at her before she casually dropped her hand back down next to his knee. He gripped the wheel with both hands and stared forward. She slid her hand gently onto his knee and gave it a squeeze. A slight deliriousness was taking over, like it had in the London Eye, and she had no idea where she planned to go with this, but ever so slowly, she drew her hand upward. 

He dropped his hand on top of hers heavily and he brought it to his lips for a quick kiss. “Better be safe,” he muttered, and flashed her a wicked smile. “Here’s your neighborhood!” he announced loudly. “I’ll drop you off and find somewhere to park.” 

Inside the flat, Rose bustled around making a quick dinner. She could tell Susan was tired and laid the groundwork for an early bedtime with her customary stories about how Father Christmas would come sooner the sooner she went to sleep. Her heart leapt when the buzzer sounded, and she met John at the door, breathless. “Sandwiches?”

“Yes! I never did get lunch today. Ya know...running around.” 

When they finished, she hustled Susan off in the direction of bed and pointed John to a bottle of wine and glasses. “Open it for us? If you want? I’ll be back.” 

She did her best to focus on their routine, and finally lay next to Susan, petting her head and talking about the plans for tomorrow. “What’s your last Christmas wish, darling?” 

Susan touched Rose’s cheeks. “It’s the one I already got.” 

Rose squeezed her hard and kissed her head. “I got all my wishes when I got you. I love you, so much. Now go to sleep. I’ll see you when you wake me up!” Susan giggled. 

 

Rose closed the door. Strange to hear movement in her kitchen--as she got closer she realized John was pacing, and laughed quietly to herself. Understandable. 

He stopped when she came in and handed her the glass he’d poured. She took a long look along with a long swallow of wine. With his jacket shucked, he was wearing only a long-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans. Without thought, she traced a hand across the vee at the dip of his neck. He set his glass down and took hers as well and next thing she knew, she was pushed against the counter, his hand was behind her head, he was kissing her. 

She groaned into his mouth and he pressed her harder, opening over her, drawing her in. And when he broke away to let them both gasp, she melted against him. 

“We--” he began and tilted her chin with a finger for another kiss. “We should probably take it slow. Got a lot to talk about.”

“Definitely. I’m a mum, can’t afford to be risking it.” She nuzzled against his neck. 

“I want you to know I’m an open book. For you. Ask me anything you want to know about my life, why I did things...I mean, here recently the answer is because I’m a big dummy, but--”

“Hush,” she whispered and went back for more. 

When their foreheads were pressed together again, she said, “Slow--we promise each other?” He nodded. “So how about we say you stay until the clock chimes midnight?”

“Don’t exactly want to leave ever, me. But, yes, better angels.” 

“Ok, then why don’t we take this to the couch,” she said with a devious smile. 

“That tongue of yours drives me crazy, I want you to know.” 

She just laughed and led him out of the kitchen. 

“By the way,” he said, pulling her to face him again. “I left a letter on the table. It’s the first one I wrote after I got here--to tell you who I was.” 

“Looking back, I think I always knew who you were.” 

“Wanna be clear, ‘m not holding anything back.” 

She sat, and patted the seat next to her. “Thank you. I don’t wanna jinx anything, but…”

“I know.” He sat and drew her into another kiss and she lost track of time. 

 

Sometime later she leaned on his chest, stroking the soft fabric of his shirt, while he drew a hand up and down her arm. 

“Happy Christmas, Doctor,” she whispered.

“Happy Christmas, Susan’s Mum.”

_~Epilogue to Follow~_

Bonus Features:

[CE in blue pajamas and glasses (tiger not included)](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/146825465281/rundalek-just-christopher-eccleston-lounging)  
[Stargazing in London ](https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/lists/stargazing-in-london-and-the-south-east)  
And imagine this is John, running around London, except with a leather jacket and a more panicked look on his face ;) ;)


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been such a joy for us, and we are so thankful that you all came along for the ride! Thank you all so much for every bit of support in whatever form it came, we see you and we love you!!

_~December 31~_

Rose pulled and adjusted the neckline of her dress in the back of a cab driving across London. She shouldn’t be nervous. This party would be full of friends. And John. She smiled like a loon at her reflection in the window. Still, it had been years since she’d gone to a party that wasn’t in someone’s house, much less worn an evening dress and heels--and done something this risky with cleavage. She checked her cleavage again and fought the impulse to text Clara a pic and ask if it was too much.

Somehow Jack hosted this do ever year, while being neither the funder nor the event planner. John had just shrugged when she’d questioned how this all worked exactly. “It’s Jack. Who knows.” All she gathered was that someone anonymous and rich really liked a good New Year’s party but didn’t like the spotlight, so quietly paid the bills every year. There was speculation about the regular attendees, but no one knew for sure. 

At the Hotel Arcadia, she stepped out of the cab, anxiously looking for John by the door. She was surprised to find photographers hanging out by the entrance and alarmed when a couple cameras pointed at her, but they seemed to lose interest upon realizing she wasn’t anyone. Still, her heart raced as she got to the door and saw a man in a tux approaching.

“Rose! Right this way!” It was Jack, and he offered an arm. “You look smashing, by the way.”

“Where’s John?”

“Keeping away from the paps. So, he’s probably told you about his ex’s campaign?” At her nod, he continued. “Well, that’s renewed enough interest that if he were to be seen here with a new lady, it might appear somewhere. And, you know John, that’s the last thing he wants. Even if I try to convince him publicity is a good thing.” He winked. “Here we are!”

“But they’re not after him, are they?”

“Naw, he’s small potatoes, but--”

“That’s--the Prime Minister!”

“It is! But here you go.” Jack took her shoulders and turned her half a circle and she saw John. His back was to her and he stood in his pose tapping his foot ever so slightly. Jack whistled.

He turned, and looked so good she could have fainted. Jack gave a light push to her back and she put a swing in her step and moved toward John as his mouth opened in a soft “oh.”

“Hello.”

“Hello. Wow, look at this, the most beautiful woman in the room is coming to _me_.”

“Stop, you,” she said with a laugh.

“Never.” He kissed her hand. “If that’s okay.”

“I’m getting used to it.”

“You better.”

“I suppose there are other people at this party we should talk to.” 

“Hadn’t noticed.” He grinned and pulled her in to kiss her cheek. “Don’t wanna mess up those perfect lips you’ve got going on. Yet.”

He stood straight and she brushed a hand lightly down his cheek and over his bow tie. “Thinking of a thing to mess up too.”

“Come on, I want you to meet someone,” he said after a knowing smirk. He led her across the room to a tall ginger woman in a sparkly black dress. “Rose, meet Donna Noble, my editor. Donna, this is Rose, my...plus one.”

Donna shook her hand with a wide smile. “Well! It is very nice to meet you, Rose!” She gave John a light smack on the arm. “See what happens when you leave your hermit cave, Spaceman?”

“I told you I do eventually go out!” He tugged Rose close with an arm around her waist. “And I suppose you were right.”

“Mm-hmm, I’ll remember you said that!” Donna grabbed two appetizers off a passing tray and handed one to Rose. “I’m starving. Come on, let’s get some food. Oi, why don’t you get your date something to drink, Mister Smith!”

Rose went with her, throwing her hands up in mock helplessness at John. She remembered his mentions of his editor, and now the picture was complete. “So do you know a lot of these people?” she asked.

“Jack of course, but everybody knows Jack, and Ianto. Some few of the publishing-related folks. Others I know just from coming to this party for a couple years. There’s my husband, Shaun, by the bar. He’ll hang out and talk in one spot all night if I don’t get him, but I’ll let him be for now.”

A pianist played over the hum of people mingling while they got plates.

“John’s told me about you, said you were crucial to getting the book published.”

Donna smiled warmly. “Honestly, that was one of the best jobs I’ve ever done, working with him. Intense sometimes, but we did great work together. I’m really looking forward to starting the next one. Rumor is it’s happening?”

“I’ve heard the prologue! It’s definitely happening.”

At the other end of the hors d'oeuvres table stood Mickey, his arm around Martha Jones, who was stunning in a purple silk dress. Delighted, Rose went and hugged them both. “I still can’t believe this! And I met her before you did!”

“Must have been something about the moon that night!” Martha laughed.

“Whatever it was, I’ll take it,” Mickey said, kissing the top of her head and Martha looked up at him with a brilliant smile. “I’m going to the bar, be right back.” 

“Donna and I are about to sit, come with us!” Rose said to Martha. “You know Donna?” 

“I do! This is brilliant, everyone all together.”

“Thirty minutes until the band starts,” Donna called, and then stood and hugged Martha. “Are you ladies with me for dancing?”

“Absolutely!”

They chatted for a bit at the round banquet table. Rose kept an eye out through the crowd for Clara and Bill, both of whom Jack had invited on a stop into the cafe, and both of whom were bringing dates Rose hadn’t met yet. She knew Bill had been dating her girlfriend for a while, but Clara had been skittish and noncommittal upon being questioned.

“Here come our men!” Donna said, and Rose turned to watch John approach in his tux, her heart jumping into her throat again. _Our men_. She liked the sound of it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

John looked around the table at each person, old friends and new, talking and laughing as the evening grew late. Rose’s friends had joined them and various members of their group had been taken in turn by Jack to circulate and meet a few of the more famous attendees (“Harriet Jones,” the Prime Minister had said. Rose, shaking her hand in amazement: “Yes, I know--I mean, it’s so wonderful to meet you!”) 

Now Rose was leaned away from him talking low with Clara. Clara had come with a perky blonde woman, Jenny, and seemed to be unaccountably nervous about it, though why exactly he couldn’t tell, because Jenny pretty much never stopped touching her or holding her hand. John was delighted to find Jenny worked on her own classic car and they launched into that topic. 

Donna tried to follow along for a minute, then sat back, “Thank goodness you’ve made a car friend! Please never talk to me about _pistons_ again.”

Her emphasis on “pistons” got the whole table laughing, especially when John continued loudly, “So, anyway, Jenny, about the pistons.”

He took a sip from his glass and reached under the table to find Rose’s hand waiting. She squeezed back and tilted her head briefly against his shoulder. In that moment he realized how far the earth had shifted beneath his feet.

Since he’d lost his parents, he thought of himself as someone without a family. He was intensely grateful to be included in Jack’s, but the idea of his own… Even his marriage, rushed into in a haze of wartime feeling, soured quickly in the attempt to integrate into domestics back home. 

The thought he couldn’t get away from over the entire past week, a week where they’d found a way to see each other every day, from a few stolen hours on Christmas Day to nights of intense, late-night conversation, was that Rose felt like...home. He didn’t want to bring the thought into the light yet, this new and fragile thing, but the word kept bubbling up.

Rose turned with a questioning look, and he realized he’d squeezed her hand too tightly. He shook his head with a smile and bussed her cheek.

The band returned from a break and as the opening notes of “In the Mood” broke out, Donna stood. “Come on ladies, let’s dance!” 

Mickey followed, still holding tightly to Martha’s hand.

“You coming?” Rose asked John.

“Soon. Catch me on a slow song.”

He watched her for a while, reveling in her joy in the music and the dance and the friends. There was a clap on his back. 

“Look at that, more for the big happy family,” Jack said. “We might need a new house for the dinner parties now. Or you will.” He gave John a sly look.

“One step at a time.”

“It’s getting close to midnight. Go dance with her.”

On cue, the music turned to “Moonlight Serenade.” John went to the floor. “May I?” Rose touched her tongue to her teeth and let him pull her in. They were quiet for a while in the bliss of the moment. 

“I was beginning to wonder if you danced.”

“Oh, I’ve got moves.”

“Mm-hmm, glad I’m starting to see them.”

He pulled her tighter and turned them around the floor a few times until she giggled. “There’s more where that came from.”

Jack caught his eye across the floor, dancing with Ianto, who had his eyes closed and temple pressed to Jack’s. There it was, that kind of peaceful love he’d envied but that felt always just out of his reach. He fought a sudden urge to cry, a bit unsuccessfully, instead squeezing Rose and kissing her forehead. 

“Are you having a good time?” 

“The best.” She drew a thumb under his eye. “Is that a tear?” 

“Just havin’ a moment, me.”

“I understand.”

The music stopped and Jack’s voice rang out. “Countdown time!” He was still on the dance floor with an arm around Ianto, but had taken a mic from the singer. 

“Ten, nine, eight…”

“You ready to have that lipstick mussed?” 

Her smile answered. 

“...two, one... _Happy New Year!_ ”

John was already kissing her. He was vaguely aware of confetti falling around them, but slid his hands around Rose’s head and tilted her to go again. He’d spent plenty of time in the past week learning how exactly she liked to be kissed and threw himself into pleasing her. The fingers of one hand danced up and down the back of her neck and he felt her shudder against him. 

When he broke away she gasped, “ohhh,” so he let them both breathe and kissed her ear until she pulled him back for more. 

His hands tightened in her hair and he was overwhelmed with _want_ and when she pulled back again, he murmured, “I love you.”

She froze, wide-eyed. His mouth dropped open, once then twice, and he stared back, unable to think of another word as seconds ticked by. He finally whispered, “It’s too soon to say that!” 

The tension broke and Rose began to laugh and hugged him. “It really is!”

“Can we just hold that thought and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Here’s the crazy thing, you daft man, I love you too! Feels like I have since...I’m not even sure, the London Eye? The first time I saw you?” 

“Yeah?” he could barely speak it out loud. 

“Yeah. Now kiss me some more!” 

He obliged, and blotted out the world around them for a while. Eventually, there was a bothersome tap on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you two are so sweet; most people notice when the dancing starts again.” 

“Rose, is there someone talking to us?”

“No idea,” Rose said, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“You might be the second couple I’ve had to get a room for tonight,” Jack said. 

“Yeah, yeah, point taken! Go away!” 

He gave Rose another smooch. “Well, how about this? Are you ready to say we’re properly together now?”

“Hmm,” she pretended to consider, tongue making an appearance. “Together. I like the sound of that. Okay, I’m signing up.” 

“Good. New year, new beginnings?” 

“Yeah...better with two."

_fin_

****

Bonus features:

[BP’s red dress](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/tagged/red-dress)  
[CE in a tux](https://fleurdeneuf.tumblr.com/post/170754502307/gallifreywizard-bow-ties-are-hot)  
Glen Miller, [In The Mood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPXwkWVEIIw) and [Moonlight Serenade ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjq1aTLjrOE)


End file.
